


How Not To Date Blondes

by Enkida, seventhe



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M, Here hold my beer, Uncensored Version, We were told this pairing couldn't be done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-09-26
Updated: 2006-09-26
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 161,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enkida/pseuds/Enkida, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/seventhe
Summary: Quistis is looking for another promotion. Zell is looking for some action with that cute library girl. And Seifer? He's just looking for trouble.





	1. In Which Two Blondes Express Frustration

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Seventhe and Enkida have no rights to Final Fantasy VIII or any of the characters within. They mourn this fact regularly. Seventhe weeps discreetly over a little picture of Irvine. Enkida bawls openly over a large picture of Seifer. That's probably more than you good readers ever needed to know. Anyway, no profits are being made from the story, it's all in good fun. Notice that the word 'clean' has been markedly left out in that statement. Enjoy!
> 
> Aim2 once made some righteous fanart for this... unfortunately fan-fucking-fiction.net truncated away the address to obscurity... I'll find it again someday. :(
> 
> As some of you might have noticed, the rating on this fiction has gone up from T to M. That means for Mature Audiences Only. There's a real risk that this fiction will feature all sorts of crude situations and language that are inappropriate for immature audiences. So if you fucking little cunts are unable to deal with the phallic shit we can dish out, go stuff a dick inside your mouth and shut the fuck up, shit-eating cocksuckers. Don't bitch about it. We're not going to be trading recipes for "Ma Dincht's Pasta Sauce" anymore. If you're younger than 18, your mothers will be ashamed of you!
> 
> P.S. We love you. Cocksuckers.

"Rinoa - no."  
  
Quistis turned in the doorway to her office, one hand resting on the handle. Rinoa was looking up at her almost beseechingly - or would have been if not for that troublemaking smirk across her face.  
  
"He's really, really nice, Quistis. And he's into you."  
  
"Oh, good," Quistis replied, rolling her eyes. "Another Trepie?" She turned the handle, opening the door a crack.  
  
"We didn't know the last one was a Trepie," Rinoa protested cheerfully. "He's just a normal student - only a little younger than you - does very well in his classes, too!" She glanced around and then leaned in, whispering conspiratorially: "He's blond. You _like_ blondes."  
  
"Rinoa, no." Quistis opened the door the full way, taking one step inside. "You don't need to keep setting me up with people. I mean it." She purposefully glanced at her watch. "Now, sorry, but I have to record all my grades before class."  
  
Rinoa pouted momentarily, and then perked up again. "Can you at least help me study today?" She gave Quistis a rueful smile. "It's that battle tactics class - I'm horrid at it, and you're so good at that stuff. It would really help me out."  
  
Quistis paused, but Rinoa looked so genuinely worried that she gave in. "All right," she said. "I have class at 15:30... meet me in the classroom half an hour before, and we'll go over some things."  
  
"Thanks!" Rinoa gave her a bright grin. "I'm off to see Squall, but I'll meet you then! Oh," she added, giving Quistis a wink: "And think about that date, okay?"  
  
Quistis nodded as she left, then quickly slipped into her office and closed the door behind her. She let out a light sigh of relief as she leaned up against the closed door momentarily, closing her eyes and enjoying the silence of the empty room.  
  
It had been like this for weeks now - possibly months, Quistis thought ruefully. Ever since Selphie and Irvine had started dating, it had been like an official mission for Selphie and Rinoa: _Operation Find Quistis a Nice Boyfriend_. It was potentially a sweet gesture, but it had failed spectacularly: so far she'd been set up with five die-hard Trepies, four male and one female - "We were just covering all the bases!" Selphie had exclaimed in her defense when Quistis had cornered her about it - and all of the dates had been certifiable disasters. Though most hadn't even been official dates; Selphie and Rinoa had plotted out all sorts of tricks, and Quistis had innocently fallen for most of them before she'd figured out what was up.  
  
She'd told Selphie and Rinoa to give it up. It wasn't that she didn't want someone in her life - it was a little hard, admittedly, watching Squall idly play with Rinoa's hair when he thought no one was looking - but overall, Quistis thought she could handle it. She just wasn't suited for a relationship, and - as a matter of pride - she certainly didn't need to be set up with a Trepie.  
  
No, Quistis thought, finally flipping the lights on and settling down at her desk, she didn't really need to have someone like that. Her friends tried very hard to make her feel included, and she appreciated it (although on bad days, it only made her feel worse). It was more an issue of efficiency, as she looked at it. If she couldn't have it, that was life, and she'd be better off spending her days doing something more productive  
  
She reached for the pile of graded essays, glancing at the manila folder resting, perfectly aligned, on the corner of her desk. Inside was her partially-completed application for Head Instructor. She'd been working on it piecemeal around her new class schedule. Filling out the detailed questionnaire had made her stop and think about herself in ways that made her slightly uncomfortable, and so Quistis had decided to take her time with the application; she'd never had to stop and wonder whether Head Instructor was really a suitable job for her, and whether she really wanted it.  
  
She sighed, flipping her grade book open and turning back to the essays. It wasn't as if she had anything - or anyone - else to spend her time on now.  
  
"Quisty? Quiiiiisty!"  
  
Quistis looked up from the essay before her, pen poised over the paper, and wrinkled her brow. Her eyes darted towards the large window and she noted with some disappointment that her office was still hermetically sealed. With a quiet sigh, she tore off a sheet of paper from her notepad and began to scribble on it frantically.  
  
"Quisty! There you are!" Selphie literally bounced into the room - Quistis always wondered how the girl managed to do that - and threw herself across the desk, sending the neatly ordered pile of essays flying.  
  
"Hello, Selphie," Quistis sighed, not bothering to look up from her note.  
  
"Whatcha doin'?" the perky girl asked, leaning forward and trying to peer over Quistis' hand.  
  
"Writing a memo to Squall," Quistis replied. "We really need to get those fire escapes installed."  
  
"Umm... okay," Selphie said, pulling herself up and smiling brightly. "So, did Rinoa talk to you about that date yet?"  
  
Quistis carefully screwed the cap back onto her pen, willing her teeth not to grind. "There will be no date," she said sternly.  
  
"But he's _blond!_ " Selphie protested.  
  
The cap of Quistis' pen cracked.  
  
"Ooo-kaay," Selphie said warily, sliding off of the table. "So, no date then."  
  
Opening a drawer in her desk, Quistis tossed the ruined pen into a slowly growing pile of its companions. She was either going to have to speak with Xu about bribing the Garden Supply Committee again or find new forms of stress management. Shutting it primly, she pulled off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  
  
"Look, Selphie," Quistis began. She settled her glasses back onto her nose and pinned Selphie with an expert glare. "It's not that I don't appreciate what you and Rinoa are trying to do," she lied through her teeth. "But maybe you could just accept the fact that I don't need or want anyone in my life right now. Between the missions and the class work I simply don't have the time for things like dating."  
  
Selphie's eyes grew wide and she cupped her cheeks in her hands dramatically. "That's so sad," she whispered, shaking her head.  
  
"Sad?" Quistis raised an eyebrow, almost afraid to hear what her friend was about to say.  
  
"You're pining away your youth and beauty over schoolwork, Quistis! If you keep this up, you're gonna turn into an old maid before you know it! You'll be known as Quistis Trepe, the only human being who ever managed to marry a Garden!"  
  
"Well at least I love my work," Quistis replied flatly. Still, as the other girl continued to moan and gesture dramatically, she couldn't suppress the smile that was twitching over her lips. "Selphie," she interrupted gently. "Thank you for trying to help, but if I start dating it has to be on my own terms."  
  
" _When_ , not _if!_ " Selphie insisted stubbornly. "What are you waiting for anyway? Don't tell me you don't have time, either. You wouldn't have this much work if you didn't volunteer to take so much in the first place! That's not healthy, Quisty."  
  
Quistis sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. "I suppose I'm waiting for the right guy," she admitted hesitantly. "If I'm going to waste time chasing after another person, then he has to be absolutely perfect."  
  
"Oh?" Selphie said, sidling up to Quistis with a mischievous smirk. "And how exactly does the great Quistis Trepe define 'perfect'?"  
  
Quistis blinked and eyed Selphie warily. "Even if I knew, what makes you think I'd be willing to share? Those things are private, Selphie. Besides - you and Rinoa would just try to set me up again."  
  
Selphie pouted cutely. "And what's wrong with accepting a little help from your friends?"  
  
"Every single attempt you two have made has ended up in disaster," Quistis replied, drumming her fingers over the tabletop. "Really, Selphie. I just need my own space and time," she pleaded.  
  
"Hmm," Selphie hummed, squinting thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right... sorry if we've been bugging you lately, but we're just worried about you."  
  
 _Worried_. What was there to worry about? So she was single – big deal. With a pained nod, Quistis carefully adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and began to collect the scattered essays. "I know. But Selphie? I really need to get some work done right now, so -" She trailed off as she noticed Selphie was swaying from side to side with a huge smirk. It was a sure sign that the smaller girl was planning something.  
  
"He- _ey_ , I know exactly what you need right now!" Selphie exclaimed. Her eyes lit up and she jumped in place eagerly. "Grab your whip, Quisty! I'm gonna take you on a stress management course, Tilmitt-style!"  
  
Quistis sighed and dropped the stack of papers in her hand, eyeing her friend irately. "There's no hope of convincing you to leave this office without me, is there?"  
  
"None at all!" Selphie happily agreed.  
  
"Fine," Quistis capitulated, standing up and grabbing her whip off of the hook on the wall behind her desk. "But I can't stay out for too long. I still need to finish grading these essays, and I agreed to help tutor Rinoa before class this afternoon."  
  
"Stop being such a worrywart," Selphie replied, grabbing Quistis' hand and pulling her out of the office. "We're just going to the Training Center anyway. Nothing spells relief better than blowing stuff up!"  
  
"If you say so," Quistis answered with a laugh, allowing the energetic girl to drag her through the hallway. Selphie was always bursting with energy, ready to act spontaneously at the drop of a pin. In a way, she was envious of Selphie's ability to relax so easily; Quistis herself never felt entirely comfortable unless she was following a careful plan. Schedules and timetables ruled her life, while Selphie seemed revel in letting herself drift in any direction that the wind happened to blow. She had to admit that it was relaxing, even a little bit fun to let herself get caught up in her friend's whirlwind plots - so long as they didn't involve unwanted dates.  
  
"This is gonna be great," Selphie gushed as she pushed open the doors of the Training Center and bounded down the dirt walkway. Quistis followed her more sedately, uncurling her whip and breathing in the humid jungle air of the large room.  
  
"I don't see why you're getting so excited about fighting a few Grats..." Quistis stated, trailing off as she caught up with Selphie. The girl was chatting eagerly with another figure in the room - a _man_. She edged forward cautiously, the grip on her whip tightening, and analyzed the situation. Tall... brown haired and rather non-descript... shifty, unable to make eye contact. He rubbed his hands on his pants and Quistis silently added sweaty palms to her mental list. "Oh sweet Shiva, _no_." she muttered under her breath. As she'd feared, it was another Trepie.  
  
"Oh, by the way, Quisty, this is my friend Marcus," Selphie was saying. "I hope you don't mind that I asked him to come along..." Quistis didn't bother to grace Selphie with an exasperated look. She was hoarding up her aggression in the hopes of creating a Limit Break; a little Shockwave Pulsar was looking more and more attractive by the second.  
  
"Q-quisty?" Marcus repeated, smiling at her nervously.  
  
"Quistis," she corrected instantly. Then she smiled thinly at him. "Though that will be Instructor Trepe to you." If looks could kill, Marcus would have already been drawn and quartered. "Selphie, I thought you weren't planning anything."  
  
"Oh, tee hee.... did I say that?" Selphie replied gleefully, tucking her hands behind her back and taking a few steps backwards. To her credit, she only stumbled rather than froze when Quistis' head snapped towards her. "I can see you two are getting along fabulously already! And I, uh..."  
  
"You what," Quistis said calmly. Too calmly; sweat broke out on Selphie's forehead and she stepped back several more paces.  
  
 _"I-really-gotta-meet-with-Irvine-so-I'll-be-going-bye-now!"_ she yelled, waving quickly and bolting for the door.  
  
"... she's going to pay for this," Quistis murmured dangerously. Marcus' nervous cough caught her attention and she turned to face him. She winced as he grabbed her free hand and began to pump it up and down.  
  
"It's so g-good to f-finally grab - _greet!_ I mean _greet_ you!" he yelped.  
  
Quistis sighed silently and tried not to roll her eyes, extracting her bruised hand from his overly-tight grip. "Marcus, is it? I'm not sure what exactly Selphie told you to expect, but if you're here for a date I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you."  
  
"O-oh? Oh," he replied, looking crestfallen.  
  
Quistis felt a tug of pity for the hapless student and gave him a wane smile. "I really am very sorry for this misunderstanding." She winced as Marcus' face lit up like a radioactive Glow-Bug at her words.  
  
"N-no, it's fine," he exclaimed, stepping closer to her. "S-so what's your sign?" he asked her hopefully.  
  
Quistis pulled out her whip and snapped it loudly, noting his panicked jump with some satisfaction. "I put as much stock in astrology as I do in blind dates," she told him bluntly. Then she pursed her lips in a troubled frown. "Where's your weapon, anyway?"  
  
"W-weapon?" Marcus asked cluelessly. As if on cue, the bushes behind him rustled suspiciously, and he whirled around and froze. "What was that?" he whimpered as Quistis stepped past him.  
  
Quistis felt a headache rapidly approaching. Sometimes she wondered how some of the weaker-willed recruits managed to be accepted into the Gardens at all. "You're almost a full SeeD, cadet!" she barked at him, falling easily into her Instructor mode. "You should be able to handle a few Grats without problems!" Marcus hadn’t even moved. “Do something,” she snapped. “Are you even Junctioned?”  
  
Instead of responding, his face turned white and he slowly raised a trembling arm, shakily pointing at the bushes behind her.  
  
With a sinking feeling, Quistis turned to look and was greeted by a blast of warm air. The bushes had parted to reveal the speckled, leathery red snout of a fully grown T-Rexaur. Two bright, dimly intelligent yellow eyes peered down at them, sizing them up hungrily. Then it reared onto its hind legs and let out a ground-shaking roar.  
  
Marcus fainted.  
  
"Perfect," Quistis muttered, snapping her whip again. "Just perfect."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Quistis shut off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying herself off briskly. Her gaze landed on the soggy pile that was her uniform and she sighed loudly. It had taken her ages to work the blood out of her hair alone, and she was certain that her jacket was completely ruined.  
  
On the plus side, the fury and frustration had translated itself rather easily into a Limit Break, so the battle hadn't been particularly difficult - only messy.  
  
"I hate blind dates," she mumbled to herself, stepping into her room and pulling out her battle dress. Quistis always felt uncomfortable appearing before her students in anything less than her formal SeeD uniform, but she was running much too late to stop by the supply room for a replacement. The trip to the infirmary had taken much longer than she expected, though she was thankful that Dr. Kadowaki had asked her no questions.  
  
"Another date?" was all the good doctor had commented as she tended to the hapless cadet Quistis dragged in.  
  
"If this keeps up, my reputation is going to eclipse Seifer's," Quistis grumbled to herself. Then she paused and brightened slightly. "Though I suppose that could mean less dates." Her gaze fell onto the clock on her wall, and she cursed silently under her breath and quickly twisted her damp hair into its usual clip. Grabbing a few folders off of her desk, she gave her dorm a brief final appraisal before leaving.  
  
When she arrived at her classroom, she was still sorting through her notes and attempting to cobble together her lesson plan. "Rinoa, I'm sorry I'm late, but -" She stopped and looked up, her eyes narrowing. She blinked once, then twice, and carefully closed the folder in her hand. "You're not Rinoa," she observed.  
  
"No, I'm not," the young and very suspiciously blond cadet who was leaning against her desk replied. To his credit, he didn't appear to be a Trepie; they usually didn't have the self-confidence to look her in the eye, let alone lean against her desk. _HER_ desk. Quistis felt her eyebrow tick and smoothed a placid smile over her face.  
  
"I suppose something came up, and Rinoa sent you to take her place?"  
  
"Something like that," the cadet replied, smiling charmingly at her. "I'm Jens."  
  
Quistis leaned against the door, considering him. He wasn't bad-looking, she had to admit; Rinoa did at least have good taste in men. He was also more confident than the average Trepie, which was a nice change of pace. She toyed with the idea of giving him a chance; maybe Selphie and Rinoa were right. She had been feeling vaguely unsatisfied with her work for the past few weeks, and they were only looking out for her. And, considering how badly all of their other set-ups had gone to date, the law of averages stated that she was due for a break. _Still..._  
  
"You're on my desk," Quistis finally answered, moving behind him and dropping her folders onto the tabletop.  
  
"So I am," Jens replied, uncrossing his arms and leaning back. "Care to join me?" he asked her suggestively.  
  
Quistis stared at him in shock. Landing this many bad dates in a row should have been statistically impossible. "Will you please remove yourself from my desk?" she asked him frigidly. "I have a class that I need to teach here in less than half an hour."  
  
Jens did step away from her desk, but rather than leave the room, he simply turned around and leaned forward, planting his hands squarely over her paperwork and pulling his face dangerously close to hers. The wild idea of gnashing her teeth and biting off his nose flashed through Quistis' head, but she discarded it immediately; Jens would probably have interpreted it as foreplay. Besides, she wasn't ready to ruin her peach vest over a date as well… at least, not yet.  
  
"But I need help with my lessons, instructor," Jens purred. He leaned in closer and Quistis instinctively drew back in disgust. "I'd like it if you could teach me something new."  
  
Quistis sighed to herself silently. Then she smiled at Jens, tilting her head and pursing her lips seductively. "Why not?" she whispered breathily. "Lesson one. Lure the enemy with bait." She licked her lips slowly, and Jens unconsciously swayed forward. Quistis brought her hand to his neck and toyed with the collar of his uniform. "And then..." she murmured.  
  
"... and then?" Jens repeated eagerly.  
  
"Strike with chaos," Quistis replied, pulling the strings of his uniform tie together so tightly that he gagged. Keeping her fingers hooked into the tie, she stepped around her desk, dragging him after her. "Lesson two. If your enemy is off balance, press hard so he will fall," she continued. She released her grip on the tie and casually slipped her foot behind his ankle, causing him to trip and go sprawling across the floor in an undignified heap.  
  
Jens scrambled to his feet, coughing and sputtering as he grabbed at his neck. "You bitch!" he yelled, glaring at her wildly. "Why the hell did you do that?"  
  
"Lesson three," she told him. "Strong words, coupled with an aggressive advance, are a sure sign of impending retreat." Jens' mouth opened and closed, and Quistis crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "That was my last piece of free advice, cadet. I suggest you take it if you don't want to jeopardize your future with Balamb Garden."  
  
Jens paled and then swore under his breath, exiting the room quickly. Quistis watched his hasty retreat with a satisfied smile. It dropped as her thoughts turned onto her two meddling friends and her headache returned full blast. Their morning breakfast-and-coffee meeting tomorrow was going to be interesting if _she_ had anything to say about it.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Aw, _nuts_."  
  
Zell drooped in the entrance to the Cafeteria. He was late again: the sneaker he'd thrown at his alarm clock had not only dislodged the giant plastic happy face, but knocked it off his dresser completely, unplugging it in the act. He'd meant to be _early_ today. _Early_ people got to be first in line for the bagels and strawberry cream cheese. _Early_ people got orange juice before it went rancid.  
  
And, he thought, people who ate breakfast early could be at the Library when it opened - _before_ it got busy.  
  
Recovering from his slump - hey, there would always be pancakes - Zell struck off at a jog over to the table where he'd spotted Quistis, Selphie and Rinoa. Quistis was currently pointing a fork rather maliciously across the table at the other two girls, who were giggling madly.  
"- I'm serious! No more set-ups, both of you." Quistis brandished the fork violently for good measure. "You're starting to hurt my feelings."  
  
The two girls stopped giggling instantly and Zell froze, wincing as his sneakers squeaked slightly on the floor. This sounded like a conversation he didn't really want to get involved in. He was really, really bad at girl talk, especially the serious kind.   
  
"Quistis," Rinoa explained softly, "we just wanted to help."  
  
"Why would that hurt your feelings?" Selphie asked, more confused than actually upset.  
  
Using what he called his _super-secret stealth mode_ , Zell began to slowly back away from the table. He didn't get all this girly feelings-stuff they were always talking about, and he'd only be intruding. He'd learned the hard way not to be around an angry Quistis, too.  
  
"Because you're not listening to me at all," Quistis said matter-of-factly, stabbing at the air with the fork again to punctuate her words. Rinoa jumped back slightly, surprised - which put Zell almost directly into her line of sight.  
  
"Zell!" she squealed, too obviously pleased at being off the hook.  
  
 _Nuts_. He froze, realizing he'd been caught in a fairly ridiculous-looking position. "Uh, good morning, ladies," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm off to... get some... pancakes! Yeah, uh, pancakes. You guys need anythin’?"  
  
Quistis primly took a bite of her bagel - covered with strawberry cream cheese, he noted pointedly. "No thanks," she said.  
  
"More coffee," Rinoa chirped, holding her empty cup out to Zell. It was a cup she'd bought for Squall - a bright red one reading _**Who's Your Daddy!**_ in white letters - but had inherited after Squall had firmly refused to use it. Squall refused to acknowledge anything that had to do with Laguna, though, so it hadn’t been a big surprise. Zell nabbed the cup, bowing to Rinoa, who giggled.  
  
He ran into Irvine on the way to the buffet table; the cowboy grinned and tipped his hat, and Zell furtively examined his tray. Irvine appeared to have pancakes - so there was still hope.  
He loaded up a tray of his own - pancakes, a muffin and bacon, because bacon was almost as good as hot dogs - and filled Rinoa's coffee, almost dropping it as he swiped his card at the end of the line. He glanced at the clock as he sat down. The Library had only been open for half an hour - if he ate quickly, he could probably still get there before too many people showed up.  
  
Zell knew lots of people thought it was funny that he spent time in the Library, of all places, but people just didn’t get it. Someone had told him a while ago that the cute girl in the library had a crush on him, and although he'd waved that off as humorously wrong, he'd also found himself hanging around the library a lot more often. He'd checked out a lot of impressive-looking books (ones he'd never touched) when he heard her softly congratulate someone on their grades. And he'd even picked up a form for Instructorship last week, after hearing her admit she wasn't cut out for Combat SeeD but would like to go into academia.  
  
He'd finally made up his mind to ask her out, but the past week had been a nightmare. Every time he'd come into the library, she'd been surrounded by either nosy friends or annoying students. Zell bit heartily into a piece of bacon, shaking his head. He'd thought up the idea of waking up early - which he hated! - in order to catch her alone, but even _that_ had been foiled, even if it had been by his own sneaker.  
  
"Slow down, Zell," Irvine drawled, "Food ain't runnin' off the table or anythin'."  
  
Zell looked up to stick his bacon-coated tongue out at Irvine, but was distracted mid-face by a familiar sight. He barely heard Selphie squealing with disgust as he watched a familiar dark pigtail bounce itself around the corner.  
  
"I gotta go, guys," he said, bolting up from his chair.  
  
"Where's he going?" he heard Irvine ask behind him as he left; Quistis replied with something he couldn't hear but automatically assumed was either scathing or boring, knowing Quistis.  
He took off down the crowded hallway at a jog, bursting into the library to find - a bored-faced boy behind the computer desk.  
  
"Where's Piggy?"  
  
The boy looked at him, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Who?"  
  
"The girl who works here," Zell replied, nearly out of breath from his run down the halls. "Shy girl, with a pigtail?"  
  
"Ah." Yes, the eyes were narrowing even more, the brow furrowing. "Why?"  
  
"I -" Zell fumbled with words in his mouth for a moment. "I wanted to ask her something, that's why," he said defensively.  
  
The boy shifted, slightly. "Oh, really," he said, eyes definitely slitted now. "And what was that?" He shifted again, to bring the bars on his uniform into prominent view. “I’m on the Library Committee too, you know.”  
  
"I, ah - I wanted to ask her for some books," Zell said, leaning back against the counter in a way he hoped looked nonchalant. "I'm gonna be an Instructor, see?"  
  
One eyebrow quirked in what was obvious doubt; _You, an Instructor?_ was written clearly across the boy's face. "That's funny," he said slyly. "She was just talking about that last week."  
  
"Yeah, well," Zell said breezily, "I've been plannin’ it for a while, I'm just..." He caught himself before he said _lazy_. "Busy, that's all."  
  
The boy eyed him in silence for a long, awkward moment, and then leant back in his chair. "Well, she's in a study room. A _private_ one." He paused just long enough to watch the disappointment seep across Zell's face, and then added for good measure: "And you have bacon on your face."  
  
Zell flushed and swiped at his face quickly, groaning silently as small greasy bits of meat flaked away in his palm. "Thanks for nothin', Squinty," he muttered under his breath.  
  
The boy frowned at him. "I do have a name, you know. So does _Piggy_."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Zell mumbled, still scrubbing at his chin and not really listening to the exasperated boy. "So, uh, you know when'll she be gettin’ out?"  
  
"Yes - _I_ do," Squinty replied with emphasis. The silence stretched thin between them as Zell waited expectantly for him to continue.  
  
"Well, are you gonna tell me or what?" Zell finally yelled, slapping a balled fist onto the countertop.  
  
"Keep your voice lowered while you're in the library or I'll have to ask you to leave," the boy replied smugly, folding his hands together and leaning back in the chair.  
  
Zell rolled his eyes and groaned to himself. "Man, you nerds are so uptight," he mumbled. The comment did cause Squinty to sit up angrily and open his mouth for a sharp reply, but before he could say anything, another librarian emerged from the back room. This one was a short, red-haired girl with a liberal sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose; Zell remembered seeing her hanging out with the pigtailed girl frequently. She stopped as she saw him, clearly surprised to find Zell in the Library so early in the morning.  
  
"Oh - hello, Zell! Do you need some help?" she asked him uncertainly.  
  
Squinty mumbled something under his breath, but Zell ignored him in favor of trying his luck with the new girl. "Yeah, actually, I'm looking for the pigtailed girl that usually works here..."  
  
"Oh, of course!" Freckles replied, the confusion melting into amused comprehension. "She's filing some books in the aisle right now, but she should be coming back soon. Hey, wait a minute, where are you going?"  
  
Papers flew off of the countertop as Zell whirled away and sprinted for the back of the room. "Thanks!" he called out over his shoulder, not bothering to slow down and listen to the girl's objections as he disappeared between the shelves. He raced up and down the aisles, his heart pounding almost as loudly as his feet were on the floor, and came to a screeching halt when he finally spotted her.  
  
There she was... the pigtailed girl of his dreams, humming softly to herself as she carefully inserted books back into their proper place on the shelves. A low cart stacked with unsorted books was next to her, and she was standing halfway up the sliding ladder, filing away the few in her hands onto the upper shelves. Zell felt his mouth dry out; she really _was_ cute, concentrating so single-mindedly on her work that she didn't even notice him standing there. She was filled with smiles and curls and bounces that made him feel like an awkward, tongue-tied little kid when he was around her. Quickly, he stepped behind one of the shelves before she could spot him and peered at her between the books surreptitiously.  
  
"This is it," Zell mumbled to himself nervously. "She's finally alone with me! This is my big chance to ask her out..." He swallowed thickly and clenched his fists together, willing himself to step out from his hiding place. His feet weren't paying attention however, so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and tried to work up his courage. _Time Compression?_ No problem. _Ultimecia?_ Piece of cake. But _pigtails?_ Sheer and utter panic.  
  
"It's just a girl!" Zell told himself quickly. "I'm not a wuss. I can do this!" One step, then another, and then he was no longer hidden from her sight. _I can do this!_ He opened his eyes and his mouth at the same time, and then the air rushed out of his lungs in a deflated gasp.  
  
Standing next to the pig-tailed girl was none other than the squinty boy himself; how the little guy had managed pass Zell unnoticed was a mystery probably known only to the Library Committee. At any rate, he had beat Zell to the punch – to Piggy, that is - and was helpfully passing her books from the cart and talking with her. _Flirting_ with her, Zell noticed, feeling his face flush angrily.  
  
"Hey!" he yelled, rushing forward. "That's not fair! I was here first!"  
  
"Zell!" The pig-tailed girl looked up with a startled gasp and dropped the book in her hands, turning a bright shade of red. It only made her look that much cuter, and Zell felt the words he had been planning to say leave him in a whoosh.  
  
The strained romantic tension between Zell and the pig-tailed girl didn't have quite the same vocabulary-robbing effect on the squinting librarian, however, who smirked at Zell smugly. "Excuse me, but this area is for _library staff only_."  
  
"Huh? What?" Zell blinked and looked around. Then he frowned and twisted, studying the surrounding shelves. Books, books, and more books. Nothing special about that, they were in a library after all. "No it ain't!" he protested stubbornly. "Prove it!"  
  
"Umm," the pigtailed girl replied, blushing even more fiercely. She pointed delicately at the ceiling.  
  
Hanging above his head was a huge red sign with large, unmistakable yellow letters block-printed across it. "RESTRICTED AREA - STAFF ONLY," it mocked him.  
  
"I... uh... I didn't see that!" Zell mumbled, rubbing the back of his head and flushing hotly.  
  
"Quite alright," Squinty replied in a patronizing tone. "There are plenty of people your age who are still illiterate. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."  
  
Zell winced, his temper flaring; he knew the little bastard was purposely trying to make him look foolish in front of Piggy. "I can read! I ain't all that dumb!" he spluttered, pointing a finger at Squinty. Then he redirected his finger to the pig-tailed girl, who squeaked in surprise. "Just you wait, I'm going to become a SeeD Instructor!" he told her hotly. The girl's mouth dropped open in shock, and Zell's jaw clenched. What was up with everyone? He was getting _really_ tired of seeing that expression cross peoples' faces every time he showed up in the Library. Zell knew he wasn't the brightest light bulb at the Garden, but damn it, he wasn't exactly chopped Grat either, was he? "You'll see," he promised them both, turning on his heel and sprinting out of the library.  
  
He rushed past the confused freckled girl at the front desk, nearly knocked more than a few students to the ground as he barreled through the hallway and finally came to a stop, heaving and panting, before his own dorm room. Kicking the door open, he stomped over to his desk and dug around underneath the comic books and scattered notes until he found what he was looking for. With a grunt of triumph, he pulled out the wrinkled manila envelope and tore it open hastily. The application form slipped out and fell into his hands, and snatching a pen off of the table Zell threw himself on the bed and began to scribble on it immediately.  
  
"I'll show 'em," he mumbled to himself with a fierce scowl. "Hey, I saved the world after all. This Instructor stuff should be a piece of cake!" Then his pen slowed and his brow furrowed in confusion. The first few lines of the application had been simple enough; name, rank and student ID. The next question threw him for a loop, though.  
  
 _"Briefly describe why you wish to become a Garden Instructor and what goals you hope to accomplish through the position."_  
  
Zell gnawed on the end of his pen. _Dating Piggy and stickin' it to that little squinty-eyed little runt_ didn't seem like the optimal answer, so after a few more moments of consideration he decided to skip it and move on to the next question. Unfortunately, that one wasn't any easier than the first.  
  
 _"Provide a comprehensive list of your skills, both martial and academic."_  
  
Zell quickly scribbled down the word "fighting." Then frowning, he crossed it out, writing "fist fighting" in its place. After a moment, he crossed that out as well and wrote in "martial arts." That seemed easy enough; it was the second part of the question that gave him pause. "Academic skills?" he mumbled to himself. The most he could remember about his classes usually involved which positions were easiest to maintain when sleeping through a lecture, or how to access the Balamb computer chat and email programs from the communal desks without alerting the instructors. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair. "Skip!" he yelled, moving on to the next question.  
  
 _"Argue the merits and weaknesses of Garden policy concerning non-interference in civil disputes between developed and underdeveloped parties as outlined in section 23-A, paragraph 113, sub-paragraph 2a. Cite all supplementary sources used."_  
  
"Huh?" Zell mumbled, staring at the paper dumbly. He re-read the question twice, and then decided to find his SeeD manual in the hopes of translating it into something understandable. That task was easier said than done; half an hour later, Zell was sitting in the middle of the center of a messy pile, frustrated and still empty-handed. He let himself fall backwards onto the floor, hitting his head against the hard tiles with a dull _thunk_.  
  
"Why would anyone put themselves through this crap?" Zell complained out loud, rolling his eyes upward. Then he rolled over and scrambled to his knees with a broad smile. "There you are!" he yelled, hefting up his desk and pulling the dog-eared SeeD manual out from underneath the table leg. The now-wrinkled application was pressed smoothly on the floor next to the book as Zell flipped through it impatiently; finally, he found Section 23-A. It was sixteen pages long. Four of those pages were dedicated to paragraph 113, and two more were listed for sub-paragraph 2a. Zell dropped his head onto the floor and slammed the manual shut with a hopeless groan.  
  
"I'm screwed."


	2. In Which A Third Blond Enters The Scene (and Expresses Frustration)

"Seifer."  
  
The voice was unusually low-pitched, so Seifer chose to ignore it. He was currently crouched in some really pointy bushes, eyeing the Balamb fill station, and doing his best to be quiet.  
  
_"Seifer."_  
  
He shook his head, as if trying to scare away some annoying insect. Couldn't they see he was trying to concentrate?  
  
"IDIOT."  
  
He turned around to hiss at Fujin. "Can't you see I'm working here?"  
  
Fujin pointed, her pale hair and fair skin looking eerie in the darkness. "Empty," she whispered forcefully. "Wasting time."  
  
"No one's been around there for an hour, ya know?" A loud rustling in the bushes alerted him to Raijin's large presence. "So we can’t buy anythin’ anyway. What the hell are ya waitin' for?"  
  
Seifer rolled his eyes in a grand display of irritation. "We're breaking in, stupid." He glanced back at the convenience store, tucked up snugly beside the fill station and almost gleaming with promise. "If you two are _so sure_ that it's empty, then yeah, let's go."  
  
Fujin was eyeing him with that cold calculating glare that always made him feel a little nauseous. "EXPLAIN," she said, her voice rising back to normal tone.  
  
Seifer sighed, exasperated. "I'm sick of eating the stupid fish we catch off that stupid dock. I want some real honest-to-Hyne cigarettes. I want beef jerky. And I want some goddamn toilet paper." Raijin snickered, and Seifer whirled on him in the darkness. "And don't laugh, because I’ve seen you scratching your ass when you think no one's looking, Raijin. I'm absolutely sick of living in that crap little shack without a fuckin' toilet!"  
  
Raijin's blush was almost palpable through the leaves as Fujin muttered: "MEN. IDIOTS."  
  
"So," Seifer continued smugly. "We're going to help ourselves from that little convenience store, right over there."  
  
Fujin narrowed her one remaining eye and asked plainly, "JOB?"  
  
Seifer shrugged it off. "As if anyone would hire me now," he said. "I'm lucky they let me hang around this _lovely_ town."  
  
" _We_ could get jobs," Raijin offered.  
  
Seifer shrugged again. "What's the point?" He shifted in the bushes, attempting to get comfortable. "They'll figure out you're with me, and then zip!"  
  
There was a moment of silence while Fujin and Raijin looked at each other. Seifer started to get antsy. "It's just a convenience store," he said finally. "And I'll go myself if you don't go with me."  
  
Fujin, surprisingly, was the first to nod. "GO," she whispered.  
  
Seifer went, slipping across the dimly lit yard to the store's back door, fumbling with the lock briefly before glancing over his shoulder and then hissing a low potency fire spell. The doorknob fused and then melted (the wood around it charring slightly), and Seifer rammed his shoulder into it, and it opened.  
  
_"Yes."_  
  
The store was a veritable treasure trove of goodies. Seifer made a beeline over to the snack rack, pocketing every bag of teriyaki beef jerky he could find (and one bag of cheese curls he decided to hide from Fujin). He watched Raijin snag a jumbo-sized bag of pork rinds - reinforcing his faith in the man's intelligence - and smirked as Fujin herself stocked up on Choco-Chocobo Bars and a bag of tortilla chips.  
  
Seifer then snuck behind the counter, deftly selecting three packs of Malboros (named after that filthy great monster) and four packs of Chimera Strikes (only slightly less nasty). Those went in the other pocket of his coat - the one not stuffed with jerky - and left him one remaining inside pocket, and anything he could carry in his arms. Turning to his left, he spotted the little rack of behind-the-counter medications: glancing quickly over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, he quickly nabbed a little tube of soothing crème and slipped it into his pocket. A couple of Remedies followed it because, hey, those were always useful.  
  
"DONE?" Fujin's rough voice carried through the store, and Seifer shook his head.  
  
"Here," he hissed, approaching the shelf with toilet paper: one six-pack flew through the air towards Raijin's head, another following shortly after in Fujin's direction. Seifer hoisted a third pack on his shoulder and made for the door. As he passed the register he paused, grabbing a couple foil packs of Triple Triad cards - they'd all be shit cards, but it would at least give the trio something to do when they weren't fishing.  
  
Raijin glanced over at the register. "’Ey, Seifer, shouldn't we grab a little of that cash?"  
  
Seifer shook his head violently. "No way. We're not petty thieves."  
  
Fujin gave him a once-over, her eyes pointedly resting on the jerky, and then met his gaze challengingly. Seifer glared back.  
  
"We're above that, you guys. Stuff is just stuff. Taking somebody's money - we don't need to stoop to that." He shifted the pack of toilet paper, grumbling. "I don't need money. Just a little help."  
  
Raijin grinned back at him. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "We don't need money." Seifer smirked.  
  
As they left the store triumphantly, Seifer paused at the door, scratching a very cheeky _"Thanks, suckers!"_ into the charred wood with a penknife he'd picked up off the counter.  
  
They swiftly headed back to the small shack they'd been using; Fujin had found it one day while looking for Seifer, and they'd been able to fix up the roof of the little cabin enough that it made a decent place to sleep, hang out, and smoke fish. It had probably been some Balamb fisherman's storage unit at some point; the corners were filled with a variety of useless knickknacks, and there was a strangely foreboding cellar none of the trio wanted to enter (though Seifer had scoped it out momentarily, searching for alcohol). They'd pilfered enough towels and blankets from clotheslines to make the place at least livable, if not likeable.  
Seifer was somewhat grateful that the citizens of Balamb were either kind enough or dumb enough to look the other way on the days he decided wilderness living was for chumps and came to the pier to fish. He wasn't entirely sure what his status was with Balamb, or Garden, or the rest of the world for that matter - but he didn't really care, either. The Posse had stuck with him, and for now he was surviving.  
  
They tossed their goods onto the floor. Raijin immediately took off for the woods, bearing a familiar-looking tube of crème in his hand; Fujin snickered as she began to stack bags of junk food in a very crumbly-looking cabinet. Seifer triumphantly unwrapped a pack of Malboros, almost tingling in anticipation, and -  
  
"Fujin," he barked, "got a light?"  
  
She shook her head, pointing instead at the little embankment they used to cook their dinners. "FIRE?"  
  
Seifer grinned, calling up another low-level fire spell, igniting the dry wood instantly. "Oh baby, I missed you," he crooned to the precious cancer stick as he held it out towards the cheerfully crackling fire.  
  
_WHOOSH!_  
  
Cursing and shaking out his fingers, Seifer blew the charred remains of the cigarette away. "Shit," he mumbled, fumbling for another and drawing it out of the pack. This time he approached the fire more carefully, eyes narrowing in concentration as he cautiously edged his fingers towards the flame -  
  
_WHOOSH!_  
  
After the fifth cigarette burned to ash, he stood up. "Fuck," he said plainly. "I need matches."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Quistis looked over the newspaper's morning headline and furrowed her brow. Balamb seemed like such a quiet, peaceful town; petty thievery and vandalism had never been a problem before.  
  
"Probably just some kids making trouble," she assured herself, folding the paper away only to be greeted by Selphie's wide grin.  
  
"Hey, Quisty, got a minute?" she asked a little too innocently.  
  
"No," Quistis replied immediately, grabbing her coffee and beating a hasty retreat from the Cafeteria.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"You sure about this, boss?" Raijin said uncertainly.  
  
"Have I ever steered you wrong?" Seifer asked with a cocky grin.  
  
"YES," Fujin replied without hesitation. She had been snapping at them for days after discovering the empty, crumpled bag of what had once been cheese curls hidden on the lowest shelf of their makeshift pantry. Something had to be done before the delicate balance of their Posse was disrupted, and as a responsible leader, Seifer took it upon himself to give the crew a new mission. That he would be the only one actually reaping a benefit from that night's little excursion was, of course, purely coincidental. His only problem was that the team spirit still seemed to be lacking.  
  
"But I really like the fish sticks here," Raijin complained.  
  
"DOUBLE CHOCOLATE MOUSSE," Fujin added.  
  
Seifer grimaced and turned his attention back towards the darkened restaurant. "Since when was the last time you guys could afford eating at the Balamb Bounty, huh?" he growled. "Besides, we're not here for the food. All I need is a couple of goddamn matches!"  
  
Fujin rolled her eyes. "STUPID," she said bluntly.  
  
"Well, it’s not exactly my fault that they put cameras up at the fill station!" Seifer grumbled. Noticing the two staring at him, he shrugged and gave them a broad smirk. "It's OUR fault. We're a Posse, aren't we? We stick together through thick and thin! Now are we doing this or not?"  
  
Raijin looked at the ground shamefacedly and rubbed the back of his head. "They do really great tartar sauce, too, ya..."  
  
Seifer could tell he was losing them. Drastic times called for drastic measures. "Come on, guys, think about it. We've been living like bandits for months already. Nobody gives a shit about us. We're nothing to these people. Face it - no one's gonna help us outta this one." He glared at both of his friends until their gazes dropped, each hearing the truth in his assessment.  
  
"But we haven't lost it all. We still got each other, and we still got our pride." He noted with pleasure that both Raijin and Fujin had looked up at his words with something like the beginning of hope. "So what if we got it tough? If we want something, all we gotta do is help ourselves. And helpin' ourselves is what the Balamb Bandits do best. Are you with me?"  
  
"Ya!" Raijin said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Nobody's gonna keep us from havin' pickles and tartar sauce with our fish!"  
  
Fujin's eye was glowing with an almost unholy light. "DOUBLE CHOCOLATE MOUSSE," she stated again firmly.  
  
"That's the spirit!" Seifer grinned, though he did shift uneasily as Raijin and Fujin started twitching and salivating visibly. "Let's move."  
  
Stealthily they crept towards the back door of the restaurant; after a few hushed curses and unsatisfactory attempts to crack the lock on the service door, Raijin pushed Seifer aside and simply booted the rickety door open before storming in. It led directly into the kitchen, and they wasted no time in plundering the restaurant of its goods. Raijin was busily stuffing condiments into his pockets, while Fujin gravitated straight towards the huge wall-sized refrigerator that housed the perishable goods.  
  
Noting their work with a pleased nod, Seifer left his two minions to their own devices as he crept into the dining room. Finding the small bowl of complimentary matches near the bar was no problem at all; he took the time to seat himself on one of the benches, light the cigarette he had brought along and savor it with a long, slow puff. He took another drag before opening his eyes again and surveying his surroundings.  
  
The Balamb Bounty was the most popular restaurant in the small fishing town; while not necessarily a five-star establishment like that Felicia’s on the Wharf, it was certainly more than a few steps above the cheap fried food they dished out at Wendigo's or Behemoth King. It was also one of the favorite local hangouts of Balamb Garden's denizens. There was even one of the navy blue SeeD cadet uniforms framed and hanging from the wall. "Huh," Seifer said, squinting at it. Something was strangely familiar about it, and he leaned in closer to have a look at the plaque.  
  


_"Authentic Cadet Uniform of the legendary SeeD Zell Dincht, Hero of Balamb"_

  
  
There was even a tiny autographed photo of Zell tucked into the corner of the frame, smiling obnoxiously and giving the camera a thumbs-up. Seifer removed the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out between photo-Zell's eyes.  
  
"Hero of Balamb my ass," Seifer growled to himself. Feeling restless, he moved himself behind the bar and began to pace its length, pausing to slip one of the bottles of whisky into a waiting pocket. "I bet that Chicken Wuss doesn't even eat here," he complained to himself, stopping in front of the chalked-in menu behind the bar. The specials for the next day had already been noted down.  
  


_Grilled Fastitocalon with Pickles and Tartar Sauce - 11 gil  
Steamed Adamantoise in Garlic Butter - 18 gil  
Double Chocolate Mousse - 6 gil  
Ask about our soup of the day!_

  
  
It was a nice menu, with carefully-chalked in drawings of smiling fish eagerly urging customers to try out their tasty real-life brethren. The whole thing was cheerfully tacky in that special way that was unique to Balamb. And it was all being blessed by the Patron Saint of Balamb Tackiness, Zell Dincht.  
  
Seifer smirked to himself and picked up the piece of chalk resting on the string tied to the board. "Well, well," he grinned thoughtfully. "If they like Dincht so much, they should give him a menu he'd appreciate." And with that, he began to write.  
  


_Grilled Chicken A La Wuss (No Pickles, Suckers!) - 5 gil (not worth much)_

  
  
Seifer snickered. He smudged out the next line of the menu with his sleeve, and wrote over it in messy script.  
  


_Hot Dogs! Garden Special! Definitely Including Grade-B Bite Bug Gizzards! - 2 gil_

  
  
He paused, making a disgusted face as the reminiscent taste of Garden's nasty hot dogs filled his mouth. That Cafeteria had been so gross. He was glad to be eating jerky, honestly. In fact, it would be only fitting for the Balamb Bounty to be serving a meal in honor of Garden Cafeteria's best cooking, he thought, smirking as he wrote:  
  


_Zell Dincht's Famous Onion n' Garlic Adamantoise Mega Pancakes with Apple and Fish Chunks, Tofu-Bacon-Maple Syrup and a Honey-Mustard Cheese filling - 50 gil_

  
  
That sounded suitably disgusting, Seifer decided cheerfully, wondering how many of those simpering idiots in Balamb would order it just because it had Dincht's name on it. _Stupid suck-ups_. The thought prompted him to add one line below it; this time he took his time with his handwriting, scrawling carefully:  
  


_Get yourself Kiss-Ass Sauce for free -  
Courtesy of the Balamb Bandits_

  
  
An undignified snort from behind alerted him; Raijin was smirking. Fujin leant forward, grabbing the chalk and writing underneath in her own strict capitals:  
  


_P.S. THANKS FOR THE MOUSSE._

  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Zell slowed down and grabbed the wildly swinging punching bag, wiping some sweat from his brow. He frowned as he listened to the radio report; the Balamb vandals were getting bolder.  
  
"Maybe I should visit Ma when I have some leave and see if she's alright."  
  
Cheered at the thought of having a brief vacation from his Garden duties, he turned back to his punching bag - and spotted the wrinkled application form lying on his bed, covered with his pitiful attempts to answer the questions.  
  
"Dammit," he grunted, whirling around and sending another fist flying into the bag.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Squall held the phone slightly away from his ear; the shrieking babble would've been audible from a mile away. The male voice at the other end was attempting to speak calmly over what sounded like an angry harpy in the background. Squall winced as the woman reached a particularly high note, causing the glass on his desk to shudder slightly.  
  
"I understand, sir. We'll be on it right away."  
  
Once the phone call was over, Squall allowed himself a short muffled stream of curse words under his breath. Ever since the reports on the Balamb Bandits had begun making the paper, he'd had the sneaking suspicion that - despite his best efforts to avoid it all - Garden would eventually be drawn into the mess. And he'd been right. The Bandits had apparently raided the mayor's house last night, completely rewiring his security system. And from what Squall could translate from the shrieking in the background, it seemed they'd also somehow turned the mayor's wife's hair bright green.  
  
The mayor, incensed, had invoked Garden Regulation 42A's sub clause - known as the Grounds and Location Law - which stated that Balamb Garden, in payment for its location on Balamb Island, was obligated to come to the aid of Balamb citizens in the case of an emergency and at a steep discount. Squall had tried to argue that a small and insignificant (if somewhat annoying) pack of teenaged bandits didn't constitute an emergency.  
  
The mayor's wife, screaming something about green hair, had refused to listen. It was moments like this which made Squall resent his current position as Commander and think idly about things like gunblades and resigning.  
  
Squall muttered to himself as he opened the top drawer, pulling out the familiar Garden Funds and Manpower Allocation Request and Requisition Form. He fumbled through the papers on his desk angrily, searching for a pen that wasn't bright pink and didn't write in glitter (Rinoa had given him those as a gift). Finally his fingers closed around a simple black ballpoint. Squall paused, trying to quell the sense of annoyance growing in his brain long enough to come up with a rational plan.  
  
He'd order a brief investigation of the crime scenes and see whether there were any obvious clues as to who as behind it. And then he'd order a nightly patrol of the town - this would be an excellent job for younger cadets in line for their SeeD qualification test, he decided, writing that down in the appropriate spot. He'd have to send some high caliber SeeDs for the investigation, though, to appease the mayor and his loud-mouthed wife.  
  
Squall turned to face his computer, calling up the database which contained the dynamically updated schedules of all highly-ranked SeeDs - his friends. It was the one useful thing Rinoa had done in his office, although she was always scolding him for using it for work-related purposes rather than to schedule _'fun lunches out'_ or _'happy hours'_ or some other harebrained idea. He scanned it over. Quistis was in, which wasn't a big surprise; she'd been in late every day for the past two weeks. Selphie and Irvine were both out - again, not a big surprise. But Zell was in, and active. Squall scanned Zell's schedule briefly; Zell had nothing marked, so why he was even active was a mystery, but at this point Squall didn't care.  
  
He hit the button on his phone to page Sasha, the young cadet from the library who served as his secretary on Mondays and Wednesdays. His door swung open, revealing a cheerful face framed in bright red hair and brushed with freckles.  
  
"Good morning, Commander. What can I do for you?"  
  
"Have Instructor Quistis Trepe and active SeeD Zell Dincht report to my office immediately," he ordered; and then, remembering another scolding from Rinoa, added lamely, "please."  
  
"Sure thing!" the girl chirped, closing the door behind her. Squall turned back to the request form, thinking very angry thoughts about the mayor of Balamb and his misfortuned wife.  
The form was almost completed by the time the door opened again; Quistis stepped in, closing it carefully behind her. "Good morning, Squall," she said, a little hesitantly. "Is something going on?"  
  
"Quistis," he said without even looking up, "I need you to go into Balamb and investigate these bandits we've been getting reports on."  
  
"Hadn't we decided that Garden was going to ignore the bandits?" Quistis asked in that teacher-voice that grated on his nerves so much.  
  
Squall violently signed his name across the bottom of the paper and looked up. "The mayor invoked the Grounds and Location Law," he said briefly.  
  
Understanding flickered across Quistis' face. "Has something else happened?" she asked, to which Squall simply handed her the completed form.  
  
"A raid on the mayor's house? Security cameras blacked... toilet paper stolen?" She paused, and then read slowly: _"Incident with hair dye?"_ Quistis turned to Squall, holding out the piece of paper. "With all due respect, sir, I have more important things to do with my time," she said coldly.  
  
"So do I," Squall returned, more sharply than he’d intended. "But Regulation 42A trumps my personal desires - _and yours_. I'm assigning you and Zell to appease the mayor. Do an investigation and see if you can at least come up with something."  
  
Quistis looked as if she had a million things to say in return, but before she could get any of them out, the door swung open and Zell flew into the room.  
  
"What's up, Squally-o?" he greeted the stone-faced Commander. Squall silently gestured to Quistis, who just as silently handed Zell the form.  
  
He read it over slowly. "More bandits? Man, I was thinkin' of going to town anyway and checkin' on Ma..." He stopped, squinting as he re-read one particular section. " _Hair dye?_ " He chuckled. "Shit, that's hilarious. Who are these guys?" He read on. "And why do they need so much toilet paper?"  
  
"Can you leave in twenty minutes?" Quistis asked, her voice tight with annoyance.  
  
"Sure thing," Zell replied with a grin. "Let's go stick it to 'em!"  
  
Quistis didn't reply; she gave Squall one last look and then turned on her heel, almost marching out of the office.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Aww, Quisty, stop getting in such a twisty!"  
  
That was around the moment that Quistis decided to prioritize not volunteering for any future missions with Zell ever again. She slammed the door of the car with unnecessary force and tried not to glare at the bouncing blonde across from her. "How clever. Did you spend the entire trip here coming up with that one?"  
  
Zell shot her a careless grin. "Actually, I spent the entire time wonderin' whether or not to talk to you. You had that look on your face the entire way here. Y'know, that _Instructor's about to hand out detention again_ look."  
  
Quistis frowned and made her way briskly down the sidewalk; Zell had to jog to catch up with her.  
  
"Hey! Wait up!" he yelled. He pulled in front of her and crossed his arms, quickly jumping into her path when she attempted to neatly step around him. "C'mon, just a quick stop, that's all we gotta do!"  
  
Sighing, Quistis brought her hand to her forehead and quickly dropped it when she realized that she was copying Squall's annoyed-tick tell. "Zell. When I'm leading a mission, you'll refer to me by my full name. And might I also remind you that SeeDs on active duty do not take breaks to _visit their mothers_."  
  
"Not even five minutes?" Quistis pushed him out of her way and continued down the sidewalk, and Zell frowned and bounced on his heels. He liked to keep loose and moving when faced with conflict; getting rid of all that nervous energy helped him think. It didn't seem to be beneficial for Quistis, however; from the look on her face, she was only minutes away from using her whip to tie him down and drag him behind her.  
  
"Active duty? C'mon, even I know this ain't nothing but a cover job Squall sent us on to make good with the mayor." He ignored Quistis as she hunched over visibly and pressed onwards. "Besides, there aren't any other cadets around to hear, Quisty!" Zell protested. He coughed as Quistis sent him a stare so frigid that he was sure he felt the ends of his hair frosting over. "Fine, _Quistis_ ," he hedged. "But what's the problem with a little visit? We're already here, and we gotta pass by Ma's house anyway. Hey, I'll bet she'll have cookies, too!" Cheered by the thought, he hopped and pumped a fist into the air.  
  
Quistis' grip around the handle of her whip tightened, and she resisted the urge to grab Zell by the shoulders and shake him like a limp rag doll. How he managed to press her buttons so quickly when they hadn't even gotten one block past the fill station was a mystery to her.  
"Zell," she tried, and noted with a small touch of pride that she had managed to keep her voice professionally calm. "We have an appointment with Mayor Daggett in _ten minutes_. It will take us _ten minutes_ to arrive at his house. We don't have time for this nonsense." Zell muttered something unintelligible under his breath and she rolled her eyes. "I heard that," Quistis told him, though technically speaking she hadn't. It was her standing policy to always put a little fear into her subordinates on a mission. Unfortunately, Zell didn't see himself as one of her subordinates, especially not when they were on a mission in his hometown.  
  
"Fine," Zell replied, sulking as he trailed behind her. "Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get back, right?"  
  
Quistis smiled grimly. "For once, I think we're on the same wavelength," she admitted. She slowed her gait slightly as they passed Ma Dincht's house, and her conscience twitched irritatingly. "You can visit your mom for lunch after we've spoken with the mayor," she relented. "But only for half an hour. And no!" she added quickly as she saw Zell opening his mouth. "I am _not_ coming with you. I want to check out the Balamb Bounty and see if I can find some clues about those bandits this afternoon."  
  
"Yeah!" Zell cheered, this time leaping up and skipping in front of her, doing a gratuitous handspring down the sidewalk. Then he turned and gave her broad smile. "You want me to bring you some cookies?"  
  
Quistis sighed and shook her head, a slight smile playing across her face. "You're always going to be an eternal kid, aren't you? Cookies will be fine," she laughed. The smile dropped from her face when she noticed Zell had stopped bouncing. Something was unusual about him; with a shock, she realized that he looked like he was _thinking_. "Is something wrong?" she asked cautiously.  
  
Zell, who until that moment had been bursting with his usual good cheer, was feeling unexpectedly deflated by Quistis' comment. It was actually one of her more honest sentiments and not meant as an insult; mostly he could tell because she rarely let her scathing commentary be diffused by a smirk, much less a genuine smile. The only problem was that _kids_ didn't become SeeD instructors. _Kids_ didn't get taken seriously by adults. _Kids_ didn't end up on dating cute library girls with pigtails. Quistis was the epitome of adulthood, even if her age was still doing a poor job of trying to catch up with her attitude. The thought of having to dry himself out like she did in order to win an Instructor's position took the bounce out of his step.  
  
"Zell!" Quistis' tone had changed from understanding to strict in the blink of an eye; she snapped her fingers in front of his face with a stern expression. "We're still on duty right now. Pull yourself together."  
  
Scowling, Zell rubbed the back of his head and trailed after her. "You're enough adult for the both of us," he grumbled to himself.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Hey, that looks like trouble, ya know?" Raijin squinted at the two SeeDs who were approaching the gate of the mayor's mansion. "Maybe we should wait 'till they're gone before we do this," he said uncertainly.  
  
Seifer grinned fiercely, lowering his newly stolen binoculars. "Are you kidding? Now's the _perfect_ time to strike." Seifer grinned broadly, gesturing. "The Chicken Wuss and the Instructor, here at the same time. Hyne must love me," he cackled.  
  
"DIFFICULT," Fujin countered, sharing an uneasy look with Raijin. They still remembered being beaten by their former peers, even if Seifer was suffering from short-term memory loss.  
  
Seifer whirled around and glared at them. "You wouldn’t chicken out on me now, would you?" he growled.  
  
Raijin winced. "But they wiped the floor with us last time, remember? Twice!"  
  
"PAIN," Fujin added succinctly.  
  
Seifer shook his head. "There's only two of them and three of us. We can take 'em." Seeing his two friends exchange uncertain looks, he stood up and strode past them, heading back towards the hut. "We're a team, remember? This time, we stick together. Besides..." A slow smile stretched out over his face. "Who said we're gonna have to fight 'em?"  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Thank you for seeing us, sir," Quistis said respectfully, carefully balancing the cup of steaming tea on her lap.  
  
"This isn't a social visit!" Mayor Daggett blustered. "You were hired to do a job. Balamb won't allow itself to be oppressed by terrorists! We shouldn't have to be, with your Garden at our doorstep!"  
  
"Terrorists?" Zell snorted, unsuccessfully trying to hide the smile from his face. "Toilet paper terrorists, maybe..." he muttered.  
  
Unfortunately, the mayor heard his comment all too clearly; his face was in the process of turning an interesting shade of purple. Quistis clutched her teacup with white knuckles and silently slapped her forehead. There was a reason Zell was terrible at Triple Triad. He didn't even understand the concept of a poker face, let alone have one. Taking a calming sip of her tea, she tried to salvage the situation before it could get any worse.  
  
"I assure you, Mayor Daggett, Garden takes your request very seriously. We will be resolving this situation with the utmost speed and efficiency. The safety and well-being of all citizens of Balamb is one of our primary concerns." Quistis managed to silence any further outbursts from Zell with a glare, though he still choked noisily on his tea. Still, it seemed that she had managed to soothe away the pulsing vein in Daggett's forehead for the moment.  
  
"Very good," he replied, folding his hands behind his back and turning away. "We'll assist you in any way that we can, of course. These despicable hooligans must be found as soon as possible!"  
  
"I'd like to speak to the witness, if I may," Quistis said, placing her teacup on the low table and standing up.  
  
The mayor frowned and rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure that my wife is ready for this kind of emotional stress at the moment..."  
  
Quistis sighed and tried to soothe away the pulsing vein on her _own_ forehead before it could give her away. "Sir, she might be withholding crucial evidence concerning this case."  
  
The mayor's face quickly began to flush once more. "Are you implying that my wife is a liar?" he thundered.  
  
"Whoa, whoa!" Zell yelled, slopping his tea onto the expensive-looking carpet in the sitting room as he hastily placed his cup on the table. "Look, man! We don't mean to be rude an' all, but we gotta know everythin’ we can about these guys. Who knows what they'll hit next! I got family here too, you know."  
  
The swelling in the mayor's cheeks subsided slightly, and he gave the two SeeDs a curt nod. "Fine. Since you genuinely seem to have a vested interest in solving this, I'll let you speak with her. But I'm warning you both - you're skating on thin ice!"  
  
"We understand, sir," Quistis said quickly. "Our interview will be conducted with both speed and discretion. Your wife is in good hands," she offered with a tight smile.  
  
"Fine," Daggett huffed, reaching for the door. "Wait here, I'll bring her in."  
  
As soon as they were alone, Quistis let out a sigh of relief and sagged slightly.  
  
"You can thank me for that save later!" Zell told her, giving her a friendly slap on the back.  
Quistis turned and gave Zell a not-so-friendly sock in the arm that had him wincing and scooting backwards quickly.  
  
" _Oww!_ Why'd you do that?"  
  
"We wouldn't have _needed_ a quick save if you hadn't botched it up in the first place, Zell!" Quistis hissed between her teeth. "Try to remember that we're dealing with our current employer before you open your mouth next time!"  
  
Zell shook his head in disbelief. "Stop bein' so uptight, Quistis! Everything worked out fine so far, didn't it?"  
  
"By some miracle of chance, yes," Quistis replied dryly. "Now, please be quiet and let me handle this."  
  
The mayor appeared in the doorway, tugging on the arm of someone who appeared to be whimpering slightly and fighting back.  
  
"Come on in, Emillia, the SeeDs want to talk to you."  
  
"I am _not_ seeing _anyone!_ " The new voice was shrill and somewhat panicky.  
  
Quistis sighed inwardly, wishing that someone with actual interpersonal skills had been sent on this mission with her. Where were Irvine and Selphie when an Instructor needed them? "Mrs. Daggett," she said, trying to turn her voice from _cold_ into _calm and kind_ , "we only need to ask you a few questions."  
  
There was a loud, dramatic, aggravated sigh, and then some sniffles. "Fine, I suppose," the voice replied, and Emillia Daggett walked into the room.  
  
Quistis tried very hard not to stare. Mrs. Daggett had her hair wrapped up in a very tall bundle of assorted towels, blankets, and what appeared to be a hearthrug. Her face was covered with what Quistis could only assume was meant to be a veil, but seeing as that scarf was only somewhat transparent, it acted more as a blindfold. Mrs. Daggett stumbled on a footstool and let out an alarmed _"Oop!"_ , at which her obedient husband rushed around the corner, taking her arm and settling her into a chair.  
  
Zell snorted. Quistis threw a glare over her shoulder with as much of Shiva's chill as she could muster: _keep your mouth shut and your eyes closed, Zell._  
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Daggett," Quistis began, trying to make her voice sound soothing; to her, it sounded more like she was mildly intoxicated, but as long as the woman remained calm, maybe they'd get some answers. "Can you explain to us exactly what happened?"  
  
"Th-this morning," Mrs. Daggett said, her voice thick with tears, "the alarm had gone off, and Dustin had gone downstairs to check on it. I - I couldn't sleep, so I went to take a shower. We - we've got this f-fancy new water closet, Dustin built it for me, it's in its own separate little clubhouse, outside." She paused, drawing in a ragged breath. "And when I came inside he was still fooling with th-the alarm, so I went upstairs, and -"  
  
She let out a hysterical little whimper. "Those bandits must have been in my bathhouse! My hair - oh, the thought of it makes me _sick_."  
  
"Can we see it?" Zell blurted out, and Quistis cringed as Mrs. Daggett flinched in horror and began sniffling again.  
  
"Oh, oh no, I don't think that's a good idea," the mayor said, his expression darkening. Quistis sighed, adding another mental tally to the list of _reasons to never work with Zell again_ , and stepped in, trying to save the situation.  
  
"We may need to take a small lock of the hair for evidence," she said, formulating a story as she went and plotting in the back of her head the million ways she'd get back at Zell Dincht for opening his big mouth. "We can maybe run some tests, figure out where they got the... dye... from. It might help us." _Damn you, Zell, and damn Squall while you're at it._  
  
"Go ahead, honey," Daggett said, smiling encouragingly at her. "It's okay."  
  
Emillia Daggett sniffled, but slowly and dramatically reached up, ceremoniously unwinding the many towels and assorted fabrics wrapped around her head. One by one, they landed on the floor in a pile in front of her. Finally, with a dramatic sniff and a flourish, she whirled the last one off of her head and angrily dropped it onto the floor.  
  
_"Holy shit,"_ said Zell.  
  
Mrs. Daggett's eyes flooded with tears; she let out a high-pitched wail as she shot up from her seat and flew out of the room. The mayor gave them one good solid look, expressing his extreme disappointment and annoyance, and then left, following his shrieking wife.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Dinnertime had settled over Balamb Town: citizens were leaving their jobs, meeting up for dinner or a jog; and near the mayor's house, a clump of bushes was whispering loudly.  
  
"Look, I didn't -"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"She was totally over-reacting, that wasn't my -"  
  
"Zell, shut up before I Silence you," Quistis hissed, obviously not amused.  
  
Zell glared at her and stuck his tongue out, then sent a furtive glance at his watch before adjusting his stance in the bushes.  
  
"Focus on the mission, Zell," Quistis whispered firmly.  
  
"What mission?"  
  
"The _appease-the-mayor's-wife_ mission, in which we have to guard the house overnight," Quistis shot back primly. "Thanks, by the way."  
  
Zell huffed angrily. "There's no need to sit here with a stick up your ass!"  
  
Quistis turned away, silently, continuing her surveillance.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Ready?" Seifer whispered.  
  
Raijin met his glance and gave him a thumbs-up, while Fujin replied with a firm nod.  
Seifer adjusted his grip on the toilet paper and then grinned. "Let's go!"  
  
The three friends erupted from their hiding place behind the bathhouse, each trailing streams of toilet paper behind them. Fujin went directly for the mayor's prized flower-garden, while Raijin and Seifer, both taller, got to work on the trees lining the driveway.  
  
_Wait for it_ , Seifer thought. _Wait for it._  
  
He wasn't disappointed. A figure burst out of a nearby clump of bushes, tackling Fujin almost immediately. Another form was wrestling its way out of the foliage, and Seifer could clearly hear it shouting angrily, "Zell, get back here!"  
  
_Perfect_ , Seifer thought. _I knew they'd still be here._  
  
"Go!" Seifer called, and Raijin dropped his toilet paper, assuming his familiar casting stance. The Blind spell hit Zell directly. Fujin slipped away, cat-like, while Zell writhed on the ground. Raijin aimed a Silence spell at Quistis, and Seifer paused - this would only work if Quistis hadn't Junctioned against it, and betting against Quistis' Junctioning skills was a bad bet indeed -  
  
But the spell sank in, and suddenly, Quistis was standing still, mouthing words dumbly that probably were not fit for public company.  
  
_Sweet_ , Seifer thought, and darted behind the nearby bathhouse. Quistis was shaking Zell, trying to get him upright without a voice.  
  
"Quisty? Is that you? What the hell is goin' on?"  
  
Quistis, infuriated, grabbed Zell's hand and put it to her throat.  
  
"You're silenced? Shit, Quisty, I don't have anything on me - I can't see, dammit, where'd they go?"  
  
At this, Seifer gave a wave, and the three friends launched themselves out of the bushes, hooting. He took off for the public square, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Quistis had seen him. She was dragging Zell to his feet, attempting to propel the blind man along in the general direction the three bandits had run; she froze when they made eye contact. Even without a voice, her expression was loud and clear.  
  
_You are a dead man._  
  
Seifer stopped long enough to grin and give her an exaggerated courtly bow, complete with wide smirk, before sprinting after his companions.  
  
"Quistis! C'mon, don't you even have a potion or something?" Zell yelled, grabbing onto her arm clumsily.  
  
Wordlessly, Quistis unhooked the whip from her belt and shoved it into Zell's hand, wrapping his fingers forcefully around the handle. Grabbing the other end, she set off at a run, dragging him stumbling and cursing behind her. She pulled up short when they entered Balamb's large town square; Seifer had stopped directly in the center, and both Raijin and Fujin stood behind him, cutting imposing figures in the moonlight. Lips parting in a soundless growl, Quistis reached for her whip to snap it ferociously -  
  
"Whoa!" Zell went sliding in an undignified heap across the cobblestone, yanked off balance by how suddenly she had pulled the whip out from underneath his grasp. He quickly rolled to his feet and dropped into a fighting crouch, spinning and flailing his arms wildly through the air. He had actually landed right at Seifer's feet, who was clearly having a good time easily dodging Zell's wild swings and grinning maniacally. "Shit! I can't see anything! Who were they, Quisty?"  
  
Seifer let out a low, barking laugh, and Zell stiffened.  
  
"Aww, man, don't tell me -" he groaned.  
  
"In the flesh, Chicken Wuss," Seifer replied, cracking his knuckles. "I think it's time for some payback!"  
  
Quistis' eyes narrowed. _Payback my ass_ , she clearly broadcasted as she whirled her whip around in an impressive twirl over her head and snapped it at Seifer's (and Zell's) feet.  
  
"Oh, you brought your whip with you, Instructor!" Seifer leered, his eyes lighting with delight. "Good, you're gonna need it. Guys?"  
  
Raijin and Fujin smiled as they simultaneously lifted their hands; a look of horror crossed Quistis' face, and a loud "Huh?" was the last coherent word Zell managed to speak. The Confuse spell hit Quistis at the same time that the Berserk spell took root in Zell; it was just long enough for the Balamb Bandits to make their grand escape, laughing loudly as the destruction only two fully trained A-rank SeeDs could orchestrate broke loose.


	3. In Which Much Verbal Sparring Occurs

Squall slowly lowered the report he was holding onto the desk. He smoothed it down carefully, then clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. The atmosphere in the office was calm and quiet; to the untrained eye, it might have appeared that the Commander was simply taking a quick nap while sitting upright in his chair. The trained eye, however, would have instantly spotted the telltale line of tension in his jaw, indicating that only sheer force of will was keeping him from making powder out of his own teeth.  
  
It was a shame that Quistis had trained herself to read such signs. It wasn't helping.  
  
"Would one of you care to explain this report," he said in quiet, carefully measured tones. It was not a question.  
  
Quistis, white-faced, pressed her lips together tightly and remained motionless while Zell shifted uneasily in his chair and scratched the back of his neck.  
  
"Hey, it wasn't that bad, was it?" Zell laughed nervously.  
  
Quistis' lips thinned, and Squall's eyes flew open and pierced Zell with a wrathful look. The cheerful blonde deflated instantly under the glare; even the ends of his hair seemed to droop slightly.  
  
"Not that bad," Squall repeated icily. His hands unwound from each other, and one index finger began to stab at the report underneath them. "Daggett's mansion TP-ed while BOTH of you were on active surveillance." _Stab_. "Balamb's market square rendered impassable to even foot traffic due to damages incurred." _Stab_. "The Garden Memorial Fountain - erected there just last year, mind you - defaced. Literally. By its own subjects." _Stab_. "The utter destruction of the Card Queen's residence as well the loss of sixty-two of her father's newest creations." _Stab_. "Seifer's reappearance." The sound of the lacquered desk wood splintering accompanied the last stab. By the time Squall was done, there was a perfectly finger-sized hole in the center of the paper.  
  
"Hey, that last one wasn't our fault!" Zell protested immediately.  
  
"Shut up," Squall said bluntly, turning a baleful eye onto Quistis. "How could you let this happen?"  
  
Quistis flinched and forced herself to meet Squall's gaze. "Commander," she said sharply. "Our behavior was inexcusable, sir!"  
  
Squall didn't bother to reply, only staring at her with a mixture of disbelief, anger, and most damningly of all, disappointment. She was Quistis Trepe. She didn't _fail_ at anything, much less missions. Except when Seifer was involved, it seemed. Quistis resisted the urge to sink further into her seat.  
  
"The media circus will have to be dealt with now," he muttered mostly to himself. His hands clenched, and for a moment it seemed like he might actually drop his head onto the desk and beat it there. Instead, he looked up once more at Quistis, radiating an aura of fury that could probably wilt flowers. Surreptitiously she checked to make sure his gunblade was nowhere in sight.  
  
"This was supposed to be a simple job, Quistis. A job with crappy pay, granted, but still a CONTRACT." His finger stabbed the report one more time for good measure. "It is now a very expensive LIABILITY. Forget Regulation 42A. We're going to have to draft a completely new segment in the rulebook to cover the scope of these damages! This Garden is going to be indentured to Balamb without pay for the next two years thanks to your antics."  
  
"Sir," Quistis repeated quietly, dropping her head.  
  
"Don't sir me," Squall grit out, dropping his forehead into a waiting palm. "How in Hyne's name did you two do more damage to Balamb in one night than Almasy and his Posse managed in an entire week?"  
  
"They hit us with those spells, man!" Zell piped up again, his face flushing angrily. "That was like... cheating, you know!"  
  
Squall ignored Zell, focusing instead on Quistis once more. "You were in charge of this mission, Quistis. Why weren't _you_ prepared?" The emphasis he placed on the singular effectively silenced Zell once more.  
  
Quistis, for her part, could already tell that Squall was ready to snipe at the least sign of resistance from either of them. Part of teaching battle tactics included knowing when to make a graceful retreat. Or, in this case, an awkward surrender. "I was junctioned improperly. It was irresponsible of me. I accept full responsibility for this failure and whatever reprimand you deem necessary, sir."  
  
Squall grimaced and leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers across the desktop. "SeeD Trepe. Revocation of all Instructor privileges for a period of one week, effective immediately."  
  
Quistis' head shot up and her mouth dropped open. "Squall!" she yelled before she could silence herself. "With the papers and the radio reports, everyone will know -"  
  
"Garden's pride is suffering just as much as your own," he snapped, cutting her off sharply. "Your students will be assigned a _capable_ substitute for the time being. Keep yourself busy doing something else, Quistis."  
  
"Yes, SIR," she ground out, fixing her eyes on the carpet and silently wondering how much it would take to bribe Xu to spike his personal coffee machine with laxatives for the next week. And a half. The anger was beginning to burn slowly in her chest, however, and she realized it was pointless to direct it entirely at Squall. After all, there was a certain twin-scarred asshole hiding somewhere in the foothills of Balamb who deserved the brunt of her fury, and she was more than ready to present it to him. "Will you be assigning us for another mission in Balamb?" she asked acidly. "There's still the other... problem... to deal with."  
  
"Yeah!" Zell added quickly, leaping up and punching at the air viciously. "Now that's what I'm talkin' abou-"  
  
Squall cut him off briskly. _"Sit."_  
  
Zell's butt hit the chair, and Squall turned his attention back to Quistis.  
  
"Negative," he said. "Considering your track record with Seifer, you're not going to be assigned to intercept him. In fact, I don't want to see either of you within a 100-foot radius of Balamb for the next three days. Is that understood?"  
  
Quistis twitched, but nodded stiffly.  
  
Zell, on the other hand, scowled and crossed his arms. "Alright, we screwed up, we get it already! But do you have to be such a dick about it?"  
  
If she wasn't already furious with Zell herself, Quistis might have winced. As it was, she sat back and made herself comfortable, eagerly awaiting the show with malicious anticipation. Squall didn't disappoint; the fine edge of composure that he had managed to hold when dealing with her finally blew off at Zell's loud outburst.  
  
"SHUT UP!" Squall roared, slamming his fist on the table with so much force that it rattled. One of the tiny troll dolls that Rinoa had planted on his desk skittered precariously across the surface and toppled to the floor, landing with a pathetic squeak. It rolled to a stop near Quistis' foot, looking up at her with a grin beneath its lurid neon-colored hair. The name _'Zell'_ had been hand-written across its protruding belly with a magic marker, and Quistis was strangely tempted to take out her frustrations on the hapless toy. Squall, ever the hero, managed to intervene with an apt distraction before mini-Zell could suffer its fate underneath Quistis' waiting heel.  
  
"I don't even know where to begin with you," Squall snarled at Zell, scrabbling through one of the filing drawers on desk. Finding what he was looking for, he drew out the paperwork and slammed the drawer shut, sending a series of glitter pens and another troll rolling to the floor. "What the hell is this supposed to be?" he shouted, waving the wrinkled form through the air. "If this is your idea of a joke, I'm not laughing!"  
  
Quistis stared at the familiar-looking form with wide eyes. Then she turned to look incredulously at Zell, who was flushing all the way to the roots of his platinum blond hair and hunching lower into his chair.  
  
"What the crap!" Zell mumbled, sullenly studying the tops of his sneakers. "Why does everyone always look at me like that when they find out? I got what it takes to be an Instructor!"  
  
"No," Squall grit out, "you don't." He grabbed the nearest pen - the effect somewhat dulled because it happened to be another one of Rinoa's pink ones - and scribbled "APPLICATION DENIED" in huge letters across the front of the sheet.  
  
"Aww, man..." Zell moaned, dropping his head into his hands.  
  
Squall pushed the paper away and glared at them both. "Get out, both of you. Right now."  
  
"Yes, sir!" Quistis said promptly, shooting out of her seat and striding quickly for the exit. Zell rolled out of his chair and trudged more slowly behind her, still sagging from Squall's abrupt rejection. They both paused as the door to the office cracked open and Rinoa peered in cautiously.  
  
"Is everything okay?" she mouthed quietly to Quistis, darting a quick glance over her shoulder at Squall.  
  
"He's in a bad mood," Quistis replied just as quietly, stepping outside of the office. Rinoa lingered behind, her hand on the door, and gave her and Zell a sympathetic smile.  
  
"That never stopped me before," she reassured them. "Don't worry, I'll have a little talk with him about all of this. I'm sure he's being much too harsh on you two."  
  
Zell groaned and shook his head. "Squall's gonna bite your head off, Rin."  
  
Rinoa's eyes flashed. "No, he won't," she told them confidently.  
  
"Cool trolls, by the way," Zell added, as if he'd completely forgotten the reaming he'd had seconds ago; Rinoa grinned at him and opened her mouth to reply, but -  
  
"CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR!" Squall's yell echoed through the hall, and they all winced.  
  
"Uhh... maybe you two should make yourselves scarce for a while," Rinoa laughed nervously, before slipping into the office and shutting the door behind her. Quistis took the opportunity to make a silent and hasty retreat towards her own office. Her steps quickened when she realized Zell was still following her, and a muscle in her cheek jumped.  
  
"So what are we gonna do now?"  
  
Quistis stopped with her hand on the doorknob and whirled around, glaring at Zell with all of the fury she could muster. "I am going to step inside my office, pack up a few things and then retreat to my room to have a long, hot and extremely painful shower to wash away some of this embarrassment. I don't give a Grat's ass about what you decide to do, as long as it doesn't involve me!"  
  
Zell stepped back, surprised by her sudden anger. Then his face twisted into another scowl. "Hey, wait one damn minute! Are you sayin' this is _my_ fault all of a sudden now?"  
  
"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Quistis hissed, lowering her voice as she took in the surrounding students' curious stares.  
  
Zell didn't seem to notice her efforts, pitching the volume of his own argument into a near shout. "I wasn't the only one who was tearin' up Balamb back there, you know!"  
  
With a groan, Quistis grabbed Zell by the jacket and shoved him into her office, slamming the door behind her. Then she turned around, eyes blazing and ready to spit nails. "It _is_ your fault," she hissed. "You just barged out of those bushes, with no warning to your _commanding officer._ "  
  
"You ain’t the boss of me!" Zell's face was flushed; his eyes were bright with embarrassed anger. "You were just sittin' there! What, were you gonna let Seifer run out of TP first? The whole point of the mission was to protect the mayor!"  
  
"Toilet paper is a nuisance," Quistis stated acidly. "Much like Seifer. It is not a direct attack. And I was not Junctioned for a direct attack - let alone a Status attack - and _that_ is your fault." The last sentence was punctuated with little tiny jabs of her finger through the air.  
  
"Woah, woah!" Zell rounded on her, now genuinely insulted. "How is it my fault that you weren't Junctioned?"  
  
“I _was_ Junctioned, but…” Quistis primly began to tick the reasons off on her fingers. "You jumped out of the bushes without warning me, changing the situation from one of _stealth_ to one of _direct confrontation_. And _you_..." Her voice faded for a second when she realized she was out of reasons. "You weren't Junctioned against Status attacks either!" she added hastily, turning back on Zell.  
  
Zell was staring at her now, a look of disbelief on his face. "Gimmie a break! You actually think it's MY fault YOU weren't Junctioned? Sorry, but that was ALL you. I don't have nothin' to do with your GFs and where you stick 'em. That's bullshit, Quisty, and you know it!"  
  
Her face paled at the use of her nickname, but Zell ignored the warning, barreling on. "I know everybody here thinks I'm an idiot, but I took SeeD training too! And I know when two SeeDs are on a mission and one takes attack, the other is supposed to support! That's standard basic stuff, so you can roll up all that commander shit in your protocol book and smoke it!"  
  
"I was the one calling the shots, Zell, _not you_ ," Quistis said icily. "There was no support because I wasn't prepared to support, I was -"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Zell intoned. "You weren't _prepared_ to actually _stop_ anybody, and I was!"  
  
Quistis drew herself up into a righteous rage, wanting nothing more than to rain her frustration down on Zell so that he would leave. Her brain seemed to have run out of arguments, however, so she honed in on the first thing she could think of - which was, admittedly, a particularly sore point with her.  
  
"You destroyed the Card Queen's shop! She changed the rules to random draw and winner take all because of you!"  
  
Zell shrugged. "So what? Just ask her to change 'em back!"  
  
"She's in _Trabia_ now, Zell!" Quistis threw up her hands and rolled her eyes with a loud sigh. "Do you realize what this - ugh, why do I even bother trying to talk to you?" She groaned.  
  
"Yeah... well..." Zell growled, pacing around the floor restlessly. In truth, he had actually managed to amass the bulk of the damage done in Balamb on his own. There wasn't much that could prevent Zell from laying down almost as much waste as Squall could when he was out of control, besides perhaps an Esuna. "...well, uh..." He brightened and smacked a fist into his palm, spinning to face her. "You're the one who destroyed the memorial statue! You knocked my head off!" he yelled at her.  
  
"That was on purpose," Quistis replied coolly. "Just be thankful that I couldn't tell the difference between stone and the real thing then, or I wouldn't have missed."  
  
They stood there, fuming at each other; the seconds ticked by, and they were drawn into an inadvertent staring contest. Zell's eyelid twitched, and Quistis smirked. His eyes began to water, and Quistis yawned showily, never once dropping her gaze. Finally with a curse Zell turned away and scrubbed at his eyes with his palms.  
  
"Get out of my office," Quistis said curtly, moving to her desk and shuffling through the papers there.  
  
Zell exhaled heavily through his nose and tried to cool off. It was one thing having Squall pissed off at him, but having Quistis angry too didn't seem right. In his mind, if they were gonna be in trouble for messing up big, they might as well be in trouble _together_.  
  
"Hey, Quisty, lighten up. We both made mistakes, okay?" He rocked uneasily on the balls of his feet and punched uselessly at the air in front of him. "No use cryin' over spilled milk, right? Might as well figure out what we're gonna do about it now." His idle dancing stopped when Quistis' acidic voice cut through his argument.  
  
"WE are going to do NOTHING. I don't want to see you at all next week, Zell. In fact, make that next month. Now for the last time, get out of my office."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Quistis maintained the icy exterior all the way to her room, carrying a hefty stack of papers and giving a cool nod to students who waved as she passed. This wasn't hard; the mask of professional indifference was something she'd learned early. Cool, calm, collected and in control: this was her trademark. Quistis Trepe never lost her poise.  
  
Until she entered her room, that is. Once the door slid shut behind her she allowed her shoulders to sag in a way that would have had Xu calling for a chiropractor. Lifelessly sliding the stack of papers onto her coffee table, she fell into her couch, staring at nothing and finally letting everything wash over her.  
  
"Stupid, so _stupid!_ " she hissed, so angry that she didn't even notice she was speaking to herself. "How could you be such an idiot? You should have been prepared. You should have known Zell was going to jump out there." She leaned back, pausing to remove her hair clip so that she could rest her head against the pillow of her couch. "You should've taken your items. You should've expected something as _stupid_ as this."  
  
Still agitated, Quistis got off the couch, heading into her compact bedroom - more specifically, for her shower, which she was hoping could comfort her. "You should've taken the whole thing more seriously," she lectured her reflection in the mirror as she peeled off her jacket. "But you didn't."  
  
She paused, examining the image in the mirror: perfect posture, even standing there in a t-shirt, her face lined with worry and resolve. Quistis sighed. Really, the fault had been with her dignity. She'd been expecting some common rabble: a group of teenagers who didn't know how to cast and could have been outrun by a Caterchipillar on a bad day. She hadn't thought to Junction herself for battle against what she'd expected to be some Balamb fisher-boys with too much time on their hands. She hadn't treated the situation seriously; she hadn't considered the mission an actual _mission_.  
  
She'd spouted all that garbage to Zell about treating the assignment appropriately, but in the end, she hadn't. She'd thought the mission below her - and it had proven her wrong.  
  
_Seifer_ had proven her wrong: she'd underestimated him again, even if she hadn't known it at the time. The thought grated at her. If only she'd known - but she hadn't.  
  
"That doesn't mean it's not Zell's fault too," she told her reflection hastily, stripping off the rest of her clothing and heading for the shower. But as the hot water washed over her tight neck muscles, Quistis found her own anger washing away as well, replaced with something that felt strangely like guilt.  
  
Yes, she'd been in charge of the mission, but Zell had the same high SeeD ranking as she had, and she'd been too stuffy to listen to _any_ of his mission suggestions. She just hadn't given him the time of day, not after his big mouth had ruined their chance to get any information out of the mayor's wife. She'd been trying to punish him, trying to make him do things her way. Her stealth strategy was a legitimate plan, but it had also been her way of attempting to show Zell who was in control, to curb his bumbling eagerness. That had been a mistake of pride as well; SeeDs at their level were expected to work together, not to lead and/or follow.  
  
And in retrospect - knowing who the bandits were now - Quistis realized (with a sinking feeling in her stomach) that Zell's quick-attack strategy would have worked, had she been ready to support him. Seifer, Fujin and Raijin weren't nearly as well-trained and precise in battle as she and Zell were; had they synchronized their efforts and attacked head-on, Seifer might actually be in custody at the moment.  
  
Sighing, Quistis turned off the water, breathing in the steam for a second. Whether it was Zell's fault or her own, he hadn't deserved the brutal tongue-lashing he'd gotten in her office. They were both being punished enough - _who would've thought Zell wanted to be an Instructor?_ she thought idly - and losing her temper hadn't helped anything.  
  
The bad blood between them, Quistis admitted to herself, was entirely her own fault. And, as usual, the cure already tasted far worse than the symptom.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Another Grat sank to the ground, vanishing in a puff of dust as those particular monsters were wont to do, and Zell wiped his forehead.  
  
He'd been in the Center for almost an hour, and from the second he'd walked in the door he'd been Limit-ready. His rage must have been palpable, since the tougher (and smarter) monsters had been steering clear of him; he'd had to waste a Final Heaven on a Bite Bug, for crying out loud!  
  
He swiped at a nearby bush for lack of a better target. "Quistis - so - stupid," he muttered, punctuating each string of phrases with a petulant kick. "Stupid - power trips - little - stick - up 'er - ass -" The bush at this point looked sadly like one of Squall's troll dolls, so Zell stepped away, looking for another - hopefully living - target.  
  
Of course he was angry at Quistis. She'd treated him like a little kid through the whole affair - he'd made one or two comments and she'd shut him down in true Quistis fashion, barely letting him _breathe_ without her permission. Hell, he'd jumped out of that bush and down Seifer’s throat half to get away from her!  
  
He fumed, planting a good solid kick into a nearby tree for good measure. As far as he could tell, her sit-and-wait strategy hadn't been doing _anything_ useful - and besides, nobody was allowed to get away with that kinda shit on Zell Dincht's watch. Plus, he'd counted on Quistis working as his backup once he'd launched the surprise attack - but she hadn't been willing to come to his aid at all. Instead, she'd proceeded to scold him like he was still a student!  
  
Zell drooped. Was he really that much of a child?  
  
A rustling in the bushes caught his attention, and he swung a punch towards the enlarged insect almost before it had even emerged. So he was a little angry with Quistis, and maybe a little angrier at Squall - but mostly he was trying really hard to be angry with himself, because he knew it was his fault. He'd screwed up, and now he'd _never_ get to be an Instructor.  
  
The Grat decomposed on the ground of the training center, and Zell bounced idly from foot to foot, chastising himself mentally. He'd been so eager for the mission to go well - another gold star on his record, working towards Instructorship - that maybe he _had_ jumped the gun a little. He'd been preoccupied with the mental image of bragging to Piggy about how he and Quistis had caught the Balamb Bandits as a precursor to his momentous proposal for the first date. Plus, Zell knew Piggy's little friend Squinty was a card-carrying Trepie, and he had been imagining the look of jealousy that would appear on the boy's face with relish.  
  
"Daydreaming," Zell muttered, kicking dust again. It was just so hard to take orders from Quistis, especially when it was regarding things in his own hometown. And knowing it was Seifer made it ten times worse. He felt his face flame up in red-hot anger once more, and spun around, looking for a new target. The bushes to his left rustled promisingly, and without even bothering to check his opponent Zell launched himself into a roundhouse kick at the disturbance.  
  
The only thing Zell's sneaker met was air; he twisted around deftly and managed to stabilize his unexpected landing with a palm, skidding backwards over the dirt several feet. "The hell –“ he muttered, biting the curse off when he looked up at his target and saw a pair of heeled leather boots. "Oh _shit_ ," he groaned, his eyes traveling upwards to take in the hem of the tell-tale peach skirt on top of them.  
  
Quistis held her whip coiled in one hand, tapping it expectantly into the other. Her face was bland, and Zell held himself very still, uncertain as to whether or not she was going to explode at him for nearly having left a shoeprint on her face.  
  
"Well. It's not often that people greet me that way," Quistis said finally, walking up to him. Zell peered up at her, trying to read her face - which was a futile gesture, as any ex-student, Triple Triad player or Trepie would know. Was she here to spar with him? Punish him _more?_ Zell began to panic. Quistis wasn't as formidable of a physical fighter as he was, but she more than made up for it with her barrage of Blue Magic. Besides, despite his angry thoughts for both Quistis and Squall, he really wasn't in the mood to fight either friend.  
  
Zell remained motionless, squatting uncomfortably before her, wondering whether she'd go away if he just didn't move. Quistis finally sighed and leaned over, offering him a hand. "I'm not going to bite your head off, Zell."  
  
He peered at the proffered hand skeptically. "You sure ‘bout that?" Quistis' expression quickly flickered from bland to mildly annoyed, and he shut his mouth and grabbed her hand before her face could darken any more. An awkward silence sprung up between them, and Zell shrugged. "I'll go," he offered, turning to leave.  
  
"Zell, wait," Quistis called after him sharply. Then she crossed her arms and did something Zell thought he would never hear, not in a thousand years. She cursed. Quietly, and not at him, but he heard it just the same.  
  
"... do it, dammit," she muttered, flushing slightly. Then she squared her shoulders and dropped her arms, looking him directly in the eye.  
  
_Here comes the lecture_ , Zell groaned to himself.  
  
"I apologize. I was wrong," she said clearly and concisely.  
  
Zell's mouth dropped open in unabashed shock.  
  
Quistis' cheeks gradually filled with color as she waited for his response and received none. "I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you in the office," she tried again, lifting her chin slightly. "The failure of the mission was just as much my fault as it was yours."  
  
Zell continued to gawk at her. Tense silence filled the air. A Blobra oozed into the small clearing, took one look at them, and slithered out as quickly as it could manage.  
  
The color high on her cheeks now, Quistis closed her eyes and silently wrestled with her flailing pride. She hadn't realized how deeply she had affected Zell, but his lack of response was doubly damning. She could have dealt with a boisterous Zell. She even could have dealt with an angry Zell. But a _silent_ Zell... the mortification she felt was worse than the first time she had been stripped of her Instructor's license. She hadn't expected Zell to be so insightful... or so upset. _Get it over with_ , she told herself, and pursed her lips together.  
  
"...fine. Perhaps it was more my fault than yours. SeeD training for Ranks 20 through A dictates that highly-ranked partners should always work together. It was my lack of judgment that caused our team to fail." She opened her eyes and looked at Zell, whose jaw was still flapping in the breeze. Her pride finally decided to pick up a very pointy stick and defend itself from the constant beating. "You could say something, you know!" she blurted out, exasperated.  
  
Zell blinked and closed his mouth. Then he tilted his head slowly and squinted, trying to determine whether or not she was really there, or if she was an imposter wearing Quistis' clothes. It sure didn't _sound_ like her. The Quistis he knew would never apologize to him, not in a million years. Even with Time Compression. "So, wait..." he finally said. "You mean, you're like, sorry? For real?"  
  
A couple of expressions rapidly crossed Quistis' face, finally settling on one of annoyance. She flicked her whip out and cracked it noisily at his feet, making him jump in surprise.  
  
"Yeah, that's her alright," Zell muttered to himself, hopping to ease the sting on his toes.  
  
"If you're going to be such a jackass about it, I don't know why I bothered to come here at all," Quistis spat, folding her whip up neatly and whirling around to leave.  
  
Zell winced and sprinted after her. "Hey hey hey! I didn't mean it like that!" he protested, jumping into her path and throwing out his hands out to stop her. She was moving so quickly that it didn't quite work, however, and Zell ended up shoving his hands into Quistis' chest.  
  
Oh. Well, there were two of the reasons there were so many Trepies in Balamb.  
  
"Zell," Quistis said dangerously as her eyebrow twitched.  
  
Zell quickly removed his hands as though they had been burned - a slew of _'hot'_ jokes that he was certain Quistis wouldn't appreciate jumped to mind - and backed away quickly. "Uh, sorry!" he yelled, his face turning red.  
  
Quistis shook her head and grimaced. It was just one more humiliation to add to her already long day of notoriety. She was ready to screw apologies, protocol and even her pride, all in favor of snatching a jumbo-sized strawberry sundae from the cafeteria and retreating to her room for the rest of the day to mope. "Move," she growled, all pretense of good humor gone. Zell had the good sense not to look her in the eye, considering that she was just about ready to unleash a Limit Break - but he remained still, blocking her route of escape.  
  
"It was an accident," he mumbled. Then, clearing his throat, he raised his voice. "Besides, I am too!"  
  
The sundae mission temporarily delayed, Quistis stopped trying to edge around him and raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What?" she asked.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Zell repeated stiffly. He squared his shoulders and turned to face her bravely, Laser Eye be damned. Although, having groped Quistis, there were plenty of Trepies who would claim he could die happy. Or at least be willing to kill him. Zell was certain that all this focusing on Quistis' breasts when she was so obviously furious with him wasn't healthy, and silently prayed to Hyne for a distraction.  
  
Fortunately for Zell, the leaves of the tree next to them rustled, and Quistis' head snapped to the disturbance. There was a squawk as something winged tried to emerge overhead, then a flash of light and the faint smell of charring as a few blackened feathers drifted lazily around them. Quistis returned her attention to Zell looking much less dangerous than she had moments before and tapped her fingers on her hip impatiently.  
  
"I meant I'm sorry about screwin' up last night," Zell mumbled dumbly.  
  
Quistis' eyes widened, and then narrowed, as if analyzing the statement for worth. Much to Zell's relief, they returned to their normal size, and something somewhat similar to a smile flashed across Quistis' face momentarily. "Zell, it's alright," she began, "the situation was -"  
  
"Nah," Zell replied, "'s not all your fault. Hell, I didn't have any good..." he paused, trying to remember the word she'd used. "...good judgment neither. I was just so caught up with plannin' my date that I didn't wanna spend my time hangin' around Balamb on some stupid babysittin' mission."  
  
"Except they weren't babies," Quistis replied, her eyes narrowing at the memory.  
  
"Got that right," Zell answered, slapping a clenched fist into a waiting palm. "Anyway, guess it was sorta all my fault again, huh? You don't have to apologize for yellin' at me, I know I messed it all up."  
  
Quistis fell silent, studying her nervously fidgeting friend with some measure of surprise. She had gone searching for him with the full intention to exonerate herself from the guilt she felt over the failed mission and subsequent argument. She hadn't been expecting Zell to reply in kind, much less attempt to take the blame for the mission failure when it was fairly obvious that his strategy, for once, had been more sound. Everyone always assumed Zell couldn't tell one end of a pogo stick from the other, but he was just as qualified as any of the other top-ranked SeeDs, even if his conduct was a little less reserved than their own. She recalled now clearly the look of shame and disappointment he had shown when she and Squall reacted to his Instructor application, and realized with a pang that perhaps they were all being a little unfair to him. Zell always meant well, after all, even if he wasn't the best at expressing his intentions.  
  
"We could stand here all day arguing about whose fault this was," Quistis said finally, coiling up her whip and tucking it at her belt. "Why don't we just accept each other’s apologies and let it be for now."  
  
"Yeah," Zell agreed, smiling broadly with relief. He stretched his hand out towards her. "Friends again?" he asked hopefully, turning to face her.  
  
Quistis grasped his hand in her own and gave it a firm shake, returning his smile - until his eyes dropped to her chest and he began to blush again. She pulled her hand free of his and crossed her arms, and Zell quickly spun away from her, rubbing the back of his head so furiously she was sure he was going to give himself a bald spot. Rolling her eyes upwards, Quistis couldn't suppress the loud sigh of exasperation that followed.  
  
"For Hyne's sake, Zell, they're just breasts! I know it was an accident! Haven't you ever touched a girl before?"  
  
A Buel caterwauled pathetically in the distance.  
  
_Oh boy_ , Quistis thought to herself. "Zell," she said cautiously, noting how he jumped at the sound of her voice. "I thought you and that girl from the library -"  
  
"I haven't asked her out yet, alright?"  
  
After the admission, he practically deflated in front of her, looking so forlorn and pathetic that Quistis had to repress her pitying smile before he could see it.  
  
"So I've been savin' myself for her. She's the girl of my dreams! You don't understand, she's perfect," Zell continued, his eyes glazing over as he fantasized out loud. "Every little bit of her! I don't wanna touch anybody else’s boobs!"  
  
Quistis cleared her throat loudly, and Zell whirled around and began to backpedal.  
  
"Uh, not that your boobs aren't great, Quisty, I mean, they are, trust me, but they aren't Piggy's boobs!"  
  
"Zell," Quistis replied, rolling her eyes and ushering him towards the doors. "Here's some free advice. Stop talking."  
  
"Aww, shit," Zell mumbled, slapping his forehead into his palm as they exited the training center. "I didn't mean to insult your boobs, Quistis!"  
  
A few of the regulars who were hanging outside of the doors turned to look at them with wide eyes at Zell's outburst, and Quistis began to reconsider her plan.  
  
"Zell," she hissed. "Shut up and follow me."  
  
"Right..." he mumbled, jogging down the hall after her. "Hey, where're we goin' anyway?" he asked, noticing which alcove she was leading them down. "The Cafeteria's closed right now!" he protested.  
  
Quistis smirked to herself, pulling a small card pass out of her vest. "Not for Instructors it isn't," she told him, sliding it through the slot and smiling in satisfaction as the light turned green. "It looks like Squall didn't get around to revoking all of my privileges just yet after all," she noted.  
  
Zell followed her into the empty Cafeteria with a look of awe on his face. "Oh man! If I knew this was one of the perks of bein' an Instructor, I would've used white-out!" he muttered. "Why do you guys get all this anyway?"  
  
Quistis grinned as she led him behind the counter and rooted through the frozen goods, helping herself to a small serving of strawberry ice cream. She shot Zell a warning glare as he reached for a few packets of hotdogs, and with a sheepish grin he put most of them back. "A couple of us petitioned for unlimited access to the coffee machines. Supposedly it helps us focus on our lesson plans. There are some perks, though." She nonchalantly added a dollop of whipped cream to her bowl, and Zell stared.  
  
"They NEVER have whipped cream!" he complained.  
  
"Now you know why," Quistis replied with a laugh.  
  
They trailed out to one of the tables and settled there comfortably, Zell slurping down his cold hotdogs with his bare fingers, while Quistis picked primly at her ice cream with a spoon. As a companionable silence settled between them, Quistis pulled the spoon from her mouth and pointed it at Zell. He looked up, a hotdog half-hanging out of his mouth, and quickly gulped and swallowed it noisily when she made a disgusted face at him.  
  
"Why do you want to become an Instructor anyway?" she asked, genuinely curious.  
  
"Ain't this enough?" Zell replied, gesturing at his hotdogs. Quistis smirked, and he dropped his head in concession. "It's about Piggy," he admitted.  
  
"Piggy," Quistis repeated with a note of disbelief. "Is that actually what you call her?"  
  
"Well... yeah!" Zell said, blinking innocently. "Why?"  
  
Quistis took her time to savor another spoonful of ice cream before answering. She needed it to help digest Zell's logic. "Let me get this straight. You have a crush on the pig-tailed girl from the Library. In fact, you've been mooning over her for almost an entire year now, but you still don't know her name so you just call her _Piggy_ instead?"  
  
Zell nodded, still not quite understanding why she was staring at him with that particular expression. Quistis took another, much larger bite of her dessert before making another attempt.  
  
"Did it occur to you that the first step to getting a girl's attention might be actually _learning her name?_ " she said sharply.  
  
Zell sat back and considered it. "You think?" he asked her seriously.  
  
Quistis groaned.  
  
"What! I'm real bad with names! What if turns out her name was Mary or somethin', and I ended up calling her Marge? She'd be totally pissed at me!" Zell protested in defense.  
  
"And I'm sure she finds being nicknamed after pork products much more flattering," Quistis shot back.  
  
Zell fumbled, blushing, and then held up a hotdog and waved it limply at her. "Hey! I _like_ pork products!"  
  
Quistis set her spoon down and gave Zell a _Look_. "That's not the point! You apparently have never dated anyone before because you're _saving_ yourself for her, you've been trying to earn Instructor status just to impress her, and you _don't even know her name!_ Don't you see something wrong with this picture?"  
  
"But I got names for everybody, see?" Zell answered, scratching his head. "There's Shorty, that kid that's always runnin' laps in the ring; Freckles, that Library chick that works Squall's desk on Tuesdays; an' Squinty -" and here he couldn't stop his teeth from grinding together - "... that bastard that heads off the Library Committee. Heck, I even call my own lil' bro Rascal."  
  
Quistis blinked and shook her head slowly. Zell really did see the world in different colors than other people. _Normal_ people. Though, she reflected, he _had_ picked a rather appropriate name for the nearsighted, over-eager Trepie that had been heckling her for the past few weeks. Being stalked by the Trepies was nothing new for Quistis, but Squinty brought the process to a whole new level of irritation. Even so, that was no excuse for Zell's behavior. "You're a marvel to the human race, Zell," she muttered. Seeing him brighten, she scowled at him. "That wasn't a compliment."  
  
Zell slumped over, defeated; he was so disheartened that he didn't even attempt to polish off the last hot dog in the pack. "Well what am I supposed to do?" he asked. "I'm no good at all this romantic stuff! I always freeze up and choke every time I try to ask her out."  
  
Quistis rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to her quickly dwindling sundae. "You _could_ ask for help," Quistis supplied simply. She lifted the spoon to her lips to enjoy another bite of her dessert, and froze when she felt Zell staring at her. "Oh no," she said suddenly, putting the spoon down. "No, no," she repeated, growing alarmed at the grin that was starting to spread over Zell's face. "I mean you could ask _Rinoa_ for help. She likes doing that sort of thing."  
  
"Aww, c'mon, Quisty!" Zell pleaded. "It's embarrassing enough tellin' it to you! You know Rinoa couldn't keep her mouth shut, either!"  
  
"True," Quistis said thoughtfully. Then her face dropped into a dark scowl. "Absolutely not! Do you know how many nightmarish dates she and Selphie have forced me to live through these past few weeks? I don't want to have anything to do with dating right now, not even for your sake!"  
  
"No, see, this is perfect!" Zell said, jumping up from the table and pacing around with excitement. "You've been on a ton of dates, Quisty! You've got lots of experience!" Seeing her look of revulsion, he put on his best pleading face. "It's not like you gotta date ME," he added helpfully. "Just, you know, show me what to do!"  
  
"Sweet mother of Eden, no," Quistis repeated, looking faintly ill.  
  
Zell paced around in frustration. It was all too perfect; Quistis was exactly the kind of Instructor who could impress Piggy. Well, except for the boobs... wincing, he forced himself back on track. He just needed some angle, some way to convince Quistis to help him win Piggy over. An idea began to form, and he stopped in his tracks suddenly.  
  
"Whatever it is you're thinking, no," Quistis called out warily.  
  
"I'll get Irvine to have Selphie to lay off the blind date thing."  
  
Quistis blinked. "You can do that?"  
  
"Sure thing," Zell shrugged. "Irvine owes me big-time for covering for him; there was that one time that Selphie found that other girl's phone number in his wallet and he said it was mine and I had to go hide in the Laundry Room while they -"  
  
"Zell," Quistis cut him off hastily. "Too much information."  
  
"C'mon, Quisty," he said, practically pleading with her. "It'll be a week of freedom for you - and only a couple lessons for me. You _like_ teaching," he reminded her.  
  
"I don't know if I like it this much," Quistis muttered.  
  
"Okay," Zell said slowly, mentally trying to calculate how many favors Irvine owed him anyway, "a month with no dates."  
  
Quistis' head jerked up from her ice cream. "Deal."


	4. In Which A Study Date Goes Badly

"Yo, Irvine!"  
  
Zell skidded across the Cafeteria and came to a sudden halt at Irvine's table, bracing his palms against it and puffing slightly. "Woah! Been lookin' for you everywhere!"  
  
"Hey, Zell," Irvine drawled, smiling. "What's the rush?"  
  
"Listen, man," Zell began, throwing himself into a chair and leaning in conspiratorially. "You gotta talk Selphie outta settin' Quistis up on all these blind dates!" he hissed.  
  
Irvine cocked his head. "I gotta what?"  
  
"You gotta get her to quit with the dates, okay?" Zell sputtered, determinedly stabbing a finger into the table in an unconscious imitation of Squall. "Look, Quisty's gonna be - well - you know, she's _busy_ , so you gotta call 'em off, okay?"  
  
Irvine shook his head slowly. "Zell, you're talkin' nonsense," he said, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. "Besides, what in the world can a man like me do to talk lil' Sefie out of anythin'? You know she's unstoppable," he added, a proud look on his face.  
  
Zell leaned forward, trying to look mean. "If you don't, I'm gonna tell her about the - the thing with the phone number in your wallet!"  
  
Irvine's brow creased momentarily, and then relaxed as he began chuckling. "Was that the one where you had to hide in the Laundry Room while we -"  
  
"Yeah!" Zell said angrily. "That wasn't fun, y'know!"  
  
Irvine shook his head, still laughing. "It was hilarious, Zell."  
  
"Selphie wouldn't think it was very funny!" Zell threatened, and Irvine immediately froze, tensing in his chair.  
  
"You wouldn't," he said, the question written across his face.  
  
Zell tried very hard to hold a grim frown like Quistis did, but couldn't maintain it and eventually gave in. Sighing, he slumped, his shoulders wilting. "Nah, I probably wouldn't," he admitted. Then something occurred to him and he perked right back up. "But you owe me, man! You owe me big!"  
  
"That I do," Irvine replied thoughtfully. "I'll admit that."  
  
"So you gotta talk to her! Get her - and Rinoa - to let up on Quistis for a while."  
  
Irvine looked over at Zell, still thoughtful. "What's got you all worked up about this one, man?"  
  
Zell paused. Internally, he was debating whether _Irvine_ might be able to help him. Irvine was a smooth ladies' man - or so he claimed - and maybe he could teach Zell about being suave and sexy. Irvine at least wouldn't laugh at him - no more than he usually did. And Irvine, unlike Rinoa, would be able to keep his crush a secret - unless Selphie started poking around.  
  
But something wasn't right. The mental picture played almost automatically: Zell swaggering up to the desk and using one of Irvine's pick-up lines on Piggy. In his mind, she blushed violently and ducked under the desk, horrified, while Squinty took a swing at him with a textbook. It did give him a reason to slug Squinty in the chin (making it a moderately successful daydream), but got him no closer to the pigtails of his dreams. Piggy was too _shy_.  
  
Mentally, Zell shook his head; Irvine was smooth and polished and rehearsed, but that wasn't the kind of man Piggy would fall for. Eventually she'd want huge bouquets of flowers and sweeping romantic gestures, but right now, he'd have to tread carefully. He needed an approach she'd understand and respect - something with intelligence and planning. He needed Quistis.  
  
Irvine was still eyeing him, with an unusual glint in his squint. "You like her?"  
  
"'Course I like her," Zell answered vaguely, his thoughts distracted by Piggy once again. He jerked out of his daydream under the weight of Irvine's stare and laughed uneasily. "Oh, you mean - naw, it ain't like that. I'm just... just... looking out for her, yeah!" Zell replied a little too quickly.  
  
Irvine's eyes narrowed, a knowing look crossing the cowboy's face. "Are you - ?"  
  
"Quistis can't go on any dates for the next month!" Zell yelled out a little more loudly than he'd thought, and the few heads in the Cafeteria swiveled to look at him.  
  
"Okay," Irvine said, raising his arms defensively. "I'll talk to Sefie, see what I can do."  
  
"Great," Zell said, now flushed bright red. "Uh, I should go!"  
  
On his way out, he paused mid-stride to stick his tongue out at Squinty, who was looking at him strangely, two parts suspicion and one part muffled anger. _Stupid squinty-eyed bastard_ , Zell thought at him, and then left.  
  
Back at his table, Irvine watched Zell blatantly mock the table of Trepies. The cowboy leant back in his chair, deep in thought. Everybody knew that Quistis and Zell had screwed up their mission, but no one knew why, not even Rinoa. Had they been - ? They weren't - _dating?_  
  
Chuckling to himself, Irvine reached forward for his soda. Whatever was going on, it would be a show worth watching.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Zell nervously shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. He was standing outside the door to Quistis' dorm room, gathering the courage to go in. _C'mon, Zell_ , he pleaded with himself. _You already told her what's goin' on. It doesn't matter if she laughs at you now._  
  
He lifted his hand to knock, but the door unexpectedly swung open. "I could hear you in my _bedroom_ ," Quistis said pointedly as way of a brief hello, and turned, leaving Zell to follow. Zell was frozen by a moment of panic - what if _Piggy_ had heard all those times he'd been standing outside _her_ door? Shaking his head to clear it, he followed Quistis inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Hi, Quisty," he managed to get out, wondering whether he sounded as much of an idiot as he felt.  
  
Quistis paused to smile at him. "Hi, Zell," she said almost warmly - for Quistis. "Are you ready?"  
  
Zell shrugged, throwing a few punches into the air. "Why not?"  
  
"Right," Quistis said, assuming her Instructor-voice. "You want to impress her by being smart, right? A good way to do that might be to invite her to a study session. You guys have Battle Tactics 401 and Casting Theory 380 together, correct?"  
  
Zell nodded in a daze, not even surprised that Quistis knew his schedule. Or Piggy's. Quistis seemed to know everything about anything involved with Instructorship, down to what page in Coulter's Handbook listed the variants of ice spells.  
  
"So," Quistis continued matter-of-factly, "let's pretend you've asked her out on a study date. It's a good choice - it's not as imposing as an actual date, but you still get to spend time together."  
  
Zell nodded hastily, not wanting to let Quistis know his mind had been wandering.  
  
Quistis looked at him. "So, Zell," she said, her voice an obvious prompt, "what are you going to do next?"  
  
"Um..." Zell flopped down on Quistis' floor, lying on his stomach and reaching for a textbook. Her questioning silence made him look up. "What?"  
  
She was seated primly on the couch, using the coffee table like a desk. "Is that how you always study?"  
  
"Yeah!" He squirmed around on the carpet a bit, fumbling for some paper and trying to snag one of those glittery pens out of Quistis' pen-cup. "It's way more comfortable."  
  
"Not for long periods of time," Quistis said acidly.  
  
"Eh, I don't study for very long anyway," Zell said lazily, and then drew himself up in consternation. "Shoot! I probably shouldn't say stuff like that in front of Piggy!"  
  
Quistis shook her head. "Not if you're trying to impress her with your study techniques," she agreed.  
  
"Shit," Zell said plainly, and Quistis replied with an automatic: "Don't swear."  
  
"I can't even cuss?" Zell sat up on the floor now, looking at her. "Man, you're as bad as my mom!"  
  
"If this is a first date," Quistis retorted, "you should be a gentleman, at least until you know how she feels about vulgar language."  
  
When Quistis phrased it that way, it made sense: someone who worked in the Library around tons of really complicated and fancy books probably wouldn't be a big fan of dirty words. Zell made a mental note of that one.  
  
"And," Quistis added, "I see you haven't looked into learning her name yet?"  
  
"Not yet," Zell said shamefully, until something occurred to him. "'Ey, Quistis, you know her class schedule! That means you know her name!" He leapt up, throwing himself onto the couch. "C'mon, Quisty, you _gotta_ tell me."  
  
Quistis' mouth dropped open. "I most certainly will not!" she replied. "You're not getting out of this that easily!"  
  
"But you know it!" Zell pleaded. "What's the big deal?"  
  
"I looked her up in preparation for this date," Quistis said primly. "You should have done the same. It certainly isn't difficult; Library schedules are posted _everywhere in the Library_. In fact," she added with bite, "you must be _deliberately ignoring_ her name to have not noticed it yet."  
  
"She's always Piggy in my daydreams," Zell moaned. "I'll still call her that, so why bother?"  
  
"Why _bother?_ " Quistis repeated, and then threw her hands up, exasperated. "That's your first homework assignment, then," she said, her tone admitting defeat. "Come prepared next time. For now, let's concentrate on the study date."  
  
"Right!" Zell pumped a fist in the air and then dove off the couch again, upsetting a stack of papers on the coffee table.  
  
"Shit - ah, shoot - sorry, Quisty," he sputtered, trying to gather them all together.  
  
"Give them here, Zell," she said with a sigh. "While I resort these, why don't you ask me some of the questions from the text, pretending I'm -" she checked herself. "That I'm Piggy."  
  
Zell stuck his tongue out at her, but obediently opened the textbook in front of him. "These end-of-chapter questions?"  
  
"Those are good enough, Zell," Quistis said, nodding. "Let's both take the test and then compare answers."  
  
"Awesome idea, Piggy," Zell replied without thinking, and started scribbling frantically on the paper. Quistis watched in something close to awe as Zell's sloppy handwriting turned into a certified, speed-demon mess: it looked as if someone was holding a Fira to his feet. She'd never seen anyone write faster - not even on her Junctioning essay questions.  
  
She couldn't remain quiet any longer. "What in the world are you doing, Zell?"  
  
"I gotta be faster than her!" Zell explained, not even looking up. "Or else she'll think I'm _dumb_."  
  
Quistis shook her head. "If you write that fast, it'll seem like you don't want to spend time with her," she pointed out. "It looks like you're rushing."  
  
"Geez, you notice _everything_ , Quistis," Zell shot back sourly, although his penmanship did slow down to a speed below Ragnarok's. "Are all girls like this?" he muttered to himself as he flipped the page.  
  
The comment resonated strangely with Quistis. She knew Zell had meant it as a joke of sorts, but she couldn't help but take it to heart. Was she _too_ picky? She'd treated most of her dates like this: analyzing and over-analyzing their every action to determine how much they actually liked her - if they actually liked her at all. But perhaps this was... unreasonable behavior. Rinoa couldn't possibly be this picky with Squall, or the two of them would have _eaten_ each other by now. Well, technically only Squall would have tried to Devour her, as he was the one who preferred to junction Eden. Rinoa probably would have just Angel Winged him into the next century.  
  
Maybe she needed to lighten up a little, she thought. Certainly not in relation to Rinoa and Selphie's _Blind Date Extravaganza_ , but - maybe in the future, if she found someone worth a date or two, she'd try to be a little less demanding? None of her dates had lived up to her standards - maybe her expectations were a little too high? She'd just wanted to be swept off her feet, and maybe... maybe she was asking too much.  
  
Well, none of them had taken dating classes, she thought with a silent chuckle, glancing down at Zell and -  
  
"Zell!" she spat out, shocked. "What are those stick figures doing?"  
  
" _Shit!_ " Zell hastily tried to stuff the paper under his textbook, only succeeding in crumpling it. "I was just - I was thinking, and - well, the one's shooting the other one," he explained lamely. "With a cannon."  
  
"A _cannon_." Quistis sounded both relieved and sardonic. "Thank Hyne."  
  
"What did you - ?" Zell looked quizzically down at the paper, and then flushed bright red. "It's a cannon, Quisty! I swear!" He scribbled them out hastily.  
  
"Are you done?" she asked, shaking her head.  
  
"I was just trying to come up with somethin' for this one question and I got distracted," he said. "These are _hard_."  
  
"Alright," Quistis said. "Let's go through our answers and see whether we agree."  
  
Zell sat up and leaned over. "Hey, Quisty, where's your paper? You didn't actually do it?" His shoulders sagged. "I was hopin' I could copy whatever you had for number three."  
  
Quistis rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Zell, that's not a good idea on a study date."  
  
"Why not?" he asked, shifting around on the floor. "She could see mine if she wanted!"  
  
Quistis shook her head quickly to rid it of the horrible mental images that phrase had produced. "Zell," she began, "cheating implies that you're a bad student, not a good one."  
  
"I'd even let her copy off of my tests," Zell continued dreamily, his eyes slightly distant.  
  
"Not on my tests," Quistis corrected him sharply, and Zell snorted.  
  
"What?" she asked, her face reddening. "Are people cheating in my classroom?"  
  
"I did, once," Zell admitted with a shrug. "It was that killer spell variant test you gave us freshman year, remember? You crammed so much stuff into it I had to write all those weighting factors on my wrist to remember 'em! It was actually... kinda easy... after..." he trailed off as he noticed Quistis' face, so bright that he was surprised to see no steam coming from her ears.  
  
"You cheated on my exam?" she hissed, her fingers spasmodically clenching her pen in a way that made him worry.  
  
"It wasn't as bad as what some of the other kids did!" Zell replied defensively. He winced as the cap on Quistis' pen cracked and splintered. "But I never did it again!" he exclaimed hastily. "So, uh, let's go over these answers!"  
  
Quistis simply sighed, dropping her forehead into her waiting palm. "Maybe a study date isn't such a good idea, Zell."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Look," the first student said cautiously, his eyes narrowing into a familiar squint, "Zell Dincht is getting much too close to Instructor Trepe." He pointed down at a typed sheet in his hand. "First incident: the inappropriate comment outside the Training Center, reported by Trepie [#43](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%2343)."  
  
A student leaning up the wall gave a proud little nod.  
  
"Second, the comments in the Cafeteria, reported by myself, Trepie [#12](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%2312)." He shook the piece of paper. "We're not going to let this little twerp bother our favorite Instructor any more, are we?"  
  
"She's not our Instructor this week," one girl corrected him timidly.  
  
"That doesn't MATTER!" Squinty roared suddenly, making her wince. The other students took a surprised step back.  
  
"Anyway," he said, his voice lowering back to the conspiratorial whisper, "We're going to make him pay."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"So you haven't been able to find out anything at all yet?" Selphie chewed on her fingernail, her eyes wide. She and Rinoa were sitting on one of the benches in the Garden's corridor, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the students as they went about their business. For all anyone could tell, they were simply meeting to chat about lunch or classes. In truth, both girls were preparing another "dating encounter" for Quistis. In Selphie's mind, the best place to plot top-secret plans was in plain sight; so far her strategy seemed to be working. This time, their weekly meeting had been delayed by the furor created over the spectacularly failed mission in Balamb. Somehow Squall had managed to keep specific names out of the public reports, but the rumor mill at the Garden was already churning violently. The news that Instructor Trepe was taking a week-long hiatus from teaching was also the source of much of the speculation.  
  
"Squall's not talking to me about it. I haven't seen him this upset since Cid tapped him as his successor," Rinoa admitted. She worried the ends of her arm-warmers nervously. "I feel kind of bad about trying to do this right now, Selphie... maybe we shouldn't be trying to set up Quistis so soon."  
  
Selphie only shook her head emphatically. "Are you kidding? Her Instructor license was just revoked, _again!_ You know how Quisty can get. She's probably going to lock herself up in her room for the whole week with a tub of ice cream and an inhuman amount of paperwork!" She pounded her fist onto the bench. "What she needs the most right now is a distraction! So tell me where we are on the Quist List."  
  
"Maybe," Rinoa agreed uncertainly, pulling a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket. She smoothed it out and the two girls leaned over it, peering at the names neatly listed there in numbered columns. A good portion of them had already been crossed out with bright red ink. Rinoa scrunched her nose as she read the name of the next potential candidate for Quistis' affections.  
  
"Oh, maybe we should skip that one," she mused, tapping her finger on the sheet.  
  
"Why?" Selphie protested. "He works at the Library, and you know Quistis likes the smart ones."  
  
"Well... he IS a Trepie, though. I think I remember Quistis saying something about him, too - wasn't he the one who spilled coffee on her just last week? She was mad about that for days! Plus he's been getting a little pushy about getting his turn -" She trailed off as a shadow fell over the paper and looked up.  
  
"Hey girls," Irvine greeted them with a lazy smile, slouching into the bench between them uninvited and sliding an arm around Selphie's shoulders. "What's up?"  
  
"Just some girl talk," Rinoa told him brightly, folding up the list and tucking it away securely. Not before Irvine took note, however, lifting a curious eyebrow in the general direction of her pocket.  
  
"Girl talk? I bet you're plannin' something for Quistis again, aren't you," he observed. The guilty look on both girls' faces was enough of an answer. "Well," Irvine replied, idly squinting at his boots, "you might want to stop doin' that for now."  
  
"What do you mean, stop?" Selphie said sharply, sitting up and shrugging off Irvine's arm.  
  
Rinoa only sighed with relief. "See, I told you so, Selphie. Even Irvine thinks this is a bad idea right now. Quistis shouldn't be dating _anyone_ during this crisis!"  
  
"Why not?" Selphie answered hotly. "Whenever the going gets tough, Quistis tries to shut everyone out and deal with it herself. I think she could use a little extra support sometimes, and as her best friends, we should be the ones to help her find him!"  
  
Irvine, sensing an argument brewing, quickly leaned forward and interrupted. "Hold up there, ladies. I think someone beat you to the punch."  
  
"What?" the girls yelled together. Then Selphie was grabbing onto the lapels of Irvine's coat and shaking him with a dangerous gleam in her eye. "Irvine, what are you talking about? Spill!"  
  
Irvine carefully plucked Selphie's prying fingers off of his coat and tried to smooth out the leather with a slight frown. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you." He leaned away from the little brunette's furious huff, only to come face to face with a pair of dark, angry and questioning eyes.  
  
"Now you _have_ to tell us!" Rinoa said, giving him a threatening grin. Irvine balked, and Rinoa noticed him fingering his coat. "Angelo still likes leather, Irvine. He's a very good doggie," she added, her eyes narrowing. "And he can still find _anything_ , I guarantee it."  
  
Irvine winced; the rapport Rinoa had with that damn dog was something even Squall was wary of. Then again, he did feel some sort of responsibility towards Zell; he had in a way silently agreed to be discreet about the request. His hesitation proved to be his salvation; instead of offering an explanation to the two waiting girls, he leaned back against the bench and gestured breezily at the corridor which led to the dormitories. "Well," he pronounced with satisfaction as he tipped his hat, "take a look for yourselves."  
  
They looked up to see two familiar heads moving quickly through the sea of students, and Selphie sprung to her feet and grabbed Rinoa and Irvine, hauling them up behind her.  
  
"Quick! Hide!" Selphie hissed, pushing them all behind one of the larger potted ferns in the hall.  
  
"Why am I hidin'? I ain't a part of this!" Irvine protested, growing silent as Selphie smacked him on the shoulder lightly.  
  
"If Quistis finds us plotting her dates here, she'll murder us," Selphie said, pushing a leaf aside to get a better view of the hallway.  
  
"... and you'll be guilty by association, I promise," Rinoa added, hunching down and peering over the side of the pot.  
  
Irvine wisely chose not to reply as the two blondes came into hearing distance. Quistis was storming down the hall looking mildly upset, and Zell was hot on her heels.  
  
"... I still don't see why we had to stop!" he yelled after her. "I wasn't doin' that badly, was I? I was just gettin' warmed up!"  
  
Quistis stopped and whirled around, glancing at the students surrounding them uneasily. Then she narrowed her eyes and leaned in towards Zell.  
  
Neither noticed the fern behind her leaning forward as well.  
  
"Lower your voice, Zell, other people are starting to notice," she hissed at him.  
  
Zell rolled his eyes and bounced impatiently on his heels. "So what? Let 'em notice, I don't care!" he told her stubbornly.  
  
"I wonder if you'd feel the same way if we were in the Library," Quistis said, noting smugly how Zell stopped bouncing abruptly at her words. "Relax, I was just joking. We're not going to do anything in public there," she said soothingly as he began to stutter a response. "I just don't think it would be productive to continue the way we were. We were getting nothing accomplished in my quarters."  
  
Selphie's mouth dropped open, and Irvine clapped a hand over it before she could emit a loud squeak.  
  
"But _I_ felt like we were finally gettin' somewhere!" Zell grumbled, sulking angrily. "So, what, like you think your classroom's a better place to do it then? If you didn't want me messin' up your room, we could've just gone to mine instead!"  
  
Quistis only rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not about disturbing my room, Zell. Some things simply require an academic setting to grasp properly." Zell still looked petulant, and Quistis stared at him coldly until he noticed and finally had the good sense to appear appropriately cowed. "Let me remind you that _you're_ the one who wanted me to do this. _I'm_ the Instructor and _you're_ the student now, so if you want to learn anything, you are going to follow me to my classroom without any further arguments. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, _master_ ," Zell answered sullenly, dropping his head as he trailed after Quistis down the hall; he stuck his tongue out at her back, but followed obediently.  
  
There was a moment of collected silence behind the fern as the three tried to digest what they had just seen.  
  
"Carbuncle's coconuts..." Selphie finally said.  
  
"Hyne..." Rinoa echoed breathlessly.  
  
"Wow." Irvine was the only one who didn't quite sound like he'd just witnessed a horrific traffic accident.  
  
Selphie's mouth flapped open and closed, as she tried to push out a sound. "Z-zell -" she managed to warble with a choke.  
  
"... and _Quistis!_ " Rinoa sat back on her heels, looking shell-shocked. Even the names together just didn't compute.  
  
Irvine had recovered more quickly than either of the girls. "I knew Quisty liked her whip, but _dang!_ She really has that whole domina-thing going on, doesn't she! Guess Zell likes it rough..." He let out a low whistle and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Honestly, I always figured she'd go after someone like Seifer."  
  
Selphie, who finally managed to attach vowels to her consonants, pulled a disgusted face. "Eww... you so didn't just go there, Irvy!" she squealed.  
  
Rinoa shushed them both quickly with a flutter of her hands; her face was pale and her eyes too round. "Don't you see?" she moaned. "We finally pushed Quistis too far. She's completely lost her mind! We've got to put a stop to this before it's too late!"  
  
Irvine could only shake his head and saunter away as the two girls immediately began to plot out a rescue mission for their friends. If the rest of Quistis and Zell's suspension was going to be this entertaining, he was definitely going requisition a camcorder from storage.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Quistis stood outside of the door, holding her card pass out and frowning at the electronic lock as she fiddled with the wiring. Zell was fidgeting nervously at her side, glancing up and down the hallway as a lookout. If the Disciplinary Committee would have happened to drop by at that moment, they couldn't have looked any more guilty of plotting to cause trouble if they tried, legendary SeeDs or not.  
  
"I can't believe he actually curbed my access," Quistis muttered to herself, yanking on a wire and carefully sending a low level thunder spell through the console, short-circuiting it.  
  
"Well, y’ain't an Instructor right now, remember?" Zell reminded her, sparing her a quick glance as the smell of smoke and charred plastic filled the air. "Oh man, we are gonna be in so much trouble if Squall catches you doin' this."  
  
"Squall never visits the classrooms if he can help it," Quistis replied confidently, running her card through the slot once more. This time the light flashed green, and with a whirr and a silent hiss the doors slid open. "Besides, this is MY classroom. He has no right to keep me away from my paperwork for a one-week suspension."  
  
Zell shook his head and followed her into the darkened room; Quistis waited until the door shut behind him before flipping on the lights. She smiled and breathed deeply, before making a beeline for her desk.  
  
"You really love doin' this, don'tcha," Zell noted. He stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to relax; how Quistis could feel at home in the empty, slightly-chilly room was beyond him. Classrooms always reminded Zell of school, and school reminded him of tests. In that regard he could understand Squall completely; nobody _sane_ wanted to spend their free time in _hell_ , after all.  
  
"It does feels good to be back here," Quistis said with a soft sigh of satisfaction as she leaned back in her chair behind the huge desk.  
  
Zell managed not to stare at her too much. "Hey, Quisty?" he prodded her finally, waking her from her relaxed stupor. "Not that it's no fun sneakin' around like this, but why are we here?"  
Quistis sat up and the softness slipped from her face as she returned her attention to the business at hand; Zell almost regretted interrupting her. Sure, he'd rather shave his head and tattoo it green than spend his time in one of the Garden classrooms reminiscing about _the good old days_ , but Quistis was wound up so tight most of the time that he felt guilty for cutting short her own version of rest and relaxation - even if it was incomprehensible to him.  
  
"I have something important to show you here," she said briskly, pulling open a few drawers and rifling through them. Then she paused and sent a sharp glance in Zell's direction. "And we're not sneaking! We're just being... discreet."  
  
"You fried the lock," Zell said bluntly. He tilted his head and squinted at Quistis. "And you're Junctioned!"  
  
"Yes, well," Quistis coughed quickly. "It needed to be replaced anyway. Now come over here, you need to see this."  
  
Zell jogged over to her desk and looked at the drawers. They were all stuffed full of files, neatly labeled and organized, even separated into segments with color-coded tabs. Typically anal retentive, and typically Quistis, he noted. "Yeah?" he asked nervously when he saw her expectant look. It felt like she was giving him a pop quiz, but he couldn't even figure out the question.  
  
Quistis made a small noise of annoyance in the back of her throat and reached into one of the files. She pulled out a fat stack of papers that was almost as thick as her palm and slammed it onto the desk with a heavy thud. "Do you know what this is?" she asked him stiffly.  
  
Sensing that "paperweight" was not the right answer, Zell took the time to actually read the label on the file.  
  
"Cadet No. 658412," he read out loud. He scratched his head and looked at Quistis. "That somebody special or somethin'?" he asked cluelessly.  
  
Quistis carefully picked up the folder, opening it up and flipping through the papers. "Yes, Zell, she is," she explained. "Cadet 658412, also known as Alya Fletcher. Thirteen years old and a bit shy. She has an aptitude for spelling and a good feel for tactics. She does exceedingly well on written exams, but has problems with the orals and the field tests. She has four years left to learn to overcome her insecurities or she'll fail the SeeD exam."  
  
Zell scratched his head. "Uh, that's great an' all, but why are you tellin' me?"  
  
Quistis sighed and closed the file neatly. "I'm telling you because I'm her Instructor, Zell. It's my responsibility to make sure that she learns just what her weaknesses are and how to overcome them in these next four years." She hefted the file back into the drawer and pointed at the myriad of other folders. "Every single one of these files is a student, Zell. And not just any student, MY student."  
  
Zell looked at the files with a new respect. "Wow," he mumbled. "Can you do that for every single one of them?" He let out an appreciative whistle as Quistis nodded at him. "I don't think I could sit still long enough to memorize all that!" he noted with a healthy dose of respect.  
  
Quistis folded her hands together and leaned forward on her desk. "Then why did you apply for an Instructor's position?" she asked him sternly.  
  
Zell stopped pacing and spun around guiltily. "Well, I already told ya, I wanted to impress Piggy -"  
  
Quistis cut him off by slamming the drawer shut loudly and pinned him under an unforgiving glare. "You said you wanted to impress her by looking smart. You applied to be an Instructor, but you can't even take _studying_ seriously!"  
  
Zell snorted and crossed his arms. "Well, yeah. That's why I asked you for help!" He rubbed at his neck and shifted uneasily as Quistis dropped her head and shook it in obvious disappointment.  
  
"I'm trying to show you _why_ your girlfriend might be interested in academics, Zell. SeeDs don't apply to be Instructors because they're masochists. There's a reason that we study, and the reason is right here, in these files. If that's something you can't understand, then you shouldn't try to impress her by faking it. You'd only be lying, both to her and yourself."  
  
Her words, surprisingly, froze the normally boisterous Zell in his tracks. He sunk down into a nearby seat, his eyes on his sneakers. The sight of Zell willingly seating himself at a desk deflated Quistis' anger somewhat. Afraid she'd crossed the line again (and remembering just how humiliating an actual apology had been), Quistis took a deep breath and softened her glare. "I'm only trying to help you, Zell. I'm no expert on impressing girls, but one thing I do know a lot about is Instructorship. I'm just trying to make sure you understand what you'd be getting into, and whether it's for the best - for you, for Piggy and for Garden."  
  
"I dunno," Zell mumbled. "It was - it was like, the perfect solution, y'know? Get t'be an Instructor, teach some little kids kick-boxing or T-boarding or something cool, and totally show Piggy and the rest of those library nerds what I'm really about."  
  
Quistis wisely bit her tongue on the wisdom of calling one's crush a _nerd_. "Kick-boxing?" she asked instead.  
  
Zell looked away. "Don't make fun," he said sulkily, his feelings obviously too hurt to even mount a proper defense. "You're always makin' fun, Quistis."  
  
"No, I'm serious," Quistis said, tapping a finger on her desk in thought. "You may not have what it takes to be a classroom Instructor, Zell, but if you're really looking to teach, you would probably make an excellent Physical Trainer."  
  
"What's that?" Zell asked, perking up a little.  
  
" _'Instructor'_ is the rank given to classroom teachers: the ones who work from texts, write tests, assign essays. But SeeD isn't just about learning and protocol; it's also about combat. A _'Trainer'_ helps the cadets pass their physical requirements, or choose and learn their weapon, or cast." Quistis paused mid-thought. "You really didn't know this?"  
  
"I only ever had Instructors," Zell explained, looking mildly interested. "I learned the gloves from Instructor... uh, shit... Instructor Dingham!" He shook his head. "Never had a _'Trainer'_ for nothin'."  
  
Quistis shrugged. "Most of our teachers are qualified to do both, and choose to go by _'Instructor'_. Balamb Garden doesn't have a very large teaching staff, honestly; we're more aimed at SeeD qualification. Galbadia, when I taught there, was set up to support a larger undergraduate population, and their ranks were a lot more specified."  
  
"Oh." Zell sagged again. "So I'd still have to do both."  
  
"Not necessarily," Quistis said, pensive. "Your skills are specialized enough that you'd be able to take on a pretty full class load as a Trainer alone. No one would expect you to pick up any Instruction, like we usually do with other staff ranks. In fact..." Her voice trailed off as she thought further.  
  
"Hey, wait, Quisty," Zell said exuberantly, shooting out of his seat. "You think I could be a Trainer, then? I mean, d'you think I'd be a good one?"  
  
Quistis looked back at him, contemplating. Zell had the enthusiasm and drive to be an excellent Trainer, honestly; if he could learn focus and organization, he'd easily be able to handle the workload. He'd probably be a favorite within a year or two. Not to mention that he was talented enough in martial arts to be able to cover a large range of classes, from the new recruits all the way up to specialized Limit Break development seminars.  
  
"Geez," Zell grumbled, "don't answer all at once."  
  
"Some people like to think things through before they say them," Quistis retorted. He flushed, taking the reprimand for more than it was. "Oh, Zell," Quistis said hastily, afraid she'd disrupted the balance between them again, "that's not what I meant."  
  
"So?" Zell bounced a little from one foot to the other. "Whaddaya think?"  
  
"Honestly, I think it would be a much better fit than the classroom," Quistis admitted. "I think you'd make an excellent Trainer if you can get past two things."  
  
"Alright!" A broad grin spread across his face and he punched the air once; obviously her answer had pleased him. "So, whatcha got?"  
  
Quistis couldn't stop herself from smiling in return. "First of all, Zell, you'd need to learn a little organization." He grimaced as if he'd gotten sour milk at the Cafeteria again, and she chuckled. "I know you don't like it, but any sort of teaching at Garden entails a very serious workload. I know you could handle it if you had some focus on it - just don't think it's something you can ignore."  
  
"Sure thing," he said to her, still grinning. "Maybe you could gimme some organization lessons, then, too - teach me how to color-code all my folders, and all that fancy stuff." He bobbed from one foot to the other, again. "What's the other thing?"  
  
Quistis paused, the smile dropping from her face into something more serious. "I'd want to make sure you were doing it for the right reason," she said softly.  
  
Zell stared at her. "Whaddaya mean?"  
  
"Being an Instructor - or a Trainer - is a huge commitment, Zell," Quistis said, her tone completely serious now. "You're responsible for every single recruit that walks in or out your door, every single year. Every student you teach is going to end up in combat somewhere." Zell had sobered up at this and appeared to be actually thinking. Quistis considered waiting for the smoke, but as Zell wasn't saying anything, she pressed on. "You'd be a good Trainer if you _wanted_ to, Zell," she said pointedly. "But you have to WANT to be one. You can't just do it to impress Piggy, or to show up somebody else. You have to care - about the students, about Garden, about your curriculum... about a lot more than just one girl."  
  
Zell still wasn't saying anything. "Are you alive over there?" Quistis asked, one eyebrow lifting.  
  
He looked up hastily, grinning and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Uh, sorry, Quisty," he said. "Just thinkin'."  
  
Quistis smiled and stood up from her desk, opening the door. "The 'date' is over now, Zell," she said, gesturing to the hallway. "Why don't you head out and think about it a little."  
  
Zell exited through the door, and then stopped, halfway down the hall. "Quistis!" he yelled, jogging part of the way back.  
  
Quistis looked up from the locking mechanism, which she was frantically trying to re-assemble to look like it had malfunctioned. "Yes?"  
  
"Why're you bein' so nice to me an' all?" Zell demanded, the look on his face implying he'd just figured out some clue in a mystery.  
  
Quistis rolled her eyes, almost embarrassed. "I'm not a monster, Zell," she said archly, tugging on an exposed wire. Maybe she could get it to look like vandalism.  
  
"You sure looked like one yesterday," Zell replied, grinning; he hastily backpedaled when Quistis shot him a dangerous glance. "N-nah, I didn't mean that! You looked great!" She directed another glare towards him, which caused a memory of his inadvertent boob-grab to float to the surface. "Er... I mean... heh." He laughed nervously. "Anyway... thanks for the... uh, the talk, and the advice, and stuff."  
  
"It's something I really care about, Zell," she said absently, finally deciding to tuck all stray wires back behind the card activator and hope someone else found it first. She stood, brushing her skirt straight. "Besides - I enjoyed it."  
  
"Really?" His entire face lit up, and Quistis - for the second time that evening - couldn't help but smile.  
  
"So we'll have your second 'lesson' tomorrow," she stated. "Why don't you take me to dinner?"  
  
"Sweet," Zell said, grinning at her and instinctively raising his hand for a high-five. Quistis eyed him with obvious apprehension, but finally reached her hand out in return, tapping his hand in a poor excuse for a hand slap.  
  
"No, Quisty," Zell corrected her emphatically, "like this!" He raised his hand higher, waiting for her to do the same. Once she did, he leapt into the air, smacking his hand against hers enthusiastically.  
  
The slap resounded down the hall. "Ouch!" Quistis pulled her hand back sharply, cradling it against her stomach.  
  
"Heh. Sorry, Quisty," Zell chuckled nervously.  
  
"Why don't you go home, Zell," Quistis said firmly. "I'm tired."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
The clear sound of Dispel magic echoed down the empty hallway; waves of magic rippled to the floor as the Vanish spell disintegrated. Rinoa and Selphie stared at each other in disbelief.  
  
"Quistis said it was a date," Rinoa offered tentatively.  
  
"Quistis _smiled_ ," Selphie breathed in disbelief.  
  
There was a pause as the two girls digested the facts.  
  
"Quistis said there was another date tomorrow," Rinoa said slowly.  
  
"I'm glad they didn't open the door _earlier_ ," Selphie replied, still dazed.  
  
"Tomorrow, Selphie," Rinoa repeated, shaking the other girl's arm to get her attention. "They're going out to dinner _tomorrow_."  
  
Selphie shook her head. "Quisty has clearly lost her mind," she declared. "She's just doing this to get back at us - she's dating the one guy we'd _never_ pick, just to spite us."  
  
"Hey," Rinoa protested, "that's not very fair to Zell. He's a nice guy!" She paused, chewing a nail for a second. "And isn't he dating that girl in the library?"  
  
"Yeah!" Selphie exclaimed, causing Rinoa to hush her. "We have to stop this, Rinny," she hissed in an exaggerated whisper. "She's going to ruin Zell's relationship just to prove us wrong!"  
  
Rinoa bit her lip. "Maybe we should tell Quistis we're sorry, and that she can stop playing with Zell and just take a break?"  
  
Selphie winced as the thought of apologizing to a furious Quistis flew through her mind. "We have to stop this date," she said, fire growing in her eyes. "This has gone too far."  
  
"That's what I'm saying," Rinoa urged. "Tell Quistis we'll stop with all the setups for a while, and then hopefully she'll leave Zell alone."  
  
"Hmm." Selphie began pacing up and down the hall. "You think if we tell her we're gonna lay off, she'll just cancel the whole thing?"  
  
Rinoa shrugged. "I don't know, Sef," she said. "I have no idea. I don't know how this even started."  
  
"Well, it's worth a try," Selphie decided. "And if that doesn't work, we'll just have to follow them and stop that date ourselves!"  
  
Rinoa giggled, but it turned into a yawn. "I'm tired, Selphie," she said. "It's been a long day, and that Vanish spell is harder than it looks."  
  
They headed for the elevator, still speaking in hushed tones of Quistis and Zell's new relationship as they waited for the doors to open. Neither took note of the rather non-descript student who was leaning on the balcony overlooking the Ground floor, nor how intently he was listening to their conversation. It was only after the elevator shut behind them that his face dropped into a dark scowl. He glared in the direction of the dormitories and ground his teeth together.  
  
"There won't be a date if I can help it," Squinty muttered to himself. "There won't even be a Dincht!"  
  
He opened the folder he was carrying, carefully noting down the date, time, and subject of the conversation on a sheet of paper headlined _'Trepie Special Report: Urgent!_ '. After, he furiously stabbed his pencil through the line reading 'Zell Dincht' for good measure.  
  
He'd recognized the two girls - who wouldn't? - he'd been waiting for them to return. Everybody knew Selphie Tilmitt and Rinoa Heartilly had been putting together a list of people interested in dating the great Quistis Trepe - and _he was next_. He'd followed them upstairs in the hopes of catching their eye, maybe getting them to move it up a bit - but then they'd vanished into thin air!  
  
"This is ridiculous," he spat. "It's my turn to date her - not that overgrown... chicken!" Squinty reached into his pocket for his pager, planning on contacting the more _devout_ members of his Trepie squad. "Time to figure out where we all stand," he murmured to himself.


	5. In Which Many Schemes Are Hatched

When the alarm rang, Zell didn't even have to reach for a projectile missile to shut it off. He practically flew out of his bed, filled with more than enough eager energy to burn and then some. While that wasn't a particularly odd state of affairs for Zell, it was unusual that it struck him before he even finished his morning warm-up. He rushed through his sit-ups without missing a beat; when he started on the push-ups, he was feeling so good he decided to do his sets with one arm instead of two. And for the entire time, only one theme occupied his thoughts:  
  
I'm gonna be a teacher. I got what it takes. Even _Quistis_ thinks so.  
  
He smiled proudly to himself yet again as he tossed on some clothes; just a quick stop by the Training Center to finish up his morning routine, and then he'd grab some breakfast at the Cafeteria before he made his way up to the Headmaster's Office to hit up Xu for the appropriate paperwork. And if she gave him that funny look again, this time he was gonna look her right back in the eye. After all, _Quistis_ said he could do it, and Quistis was never wrong.  
  
Well, actually, she was wrong a lot of the time, but only about Seifer, and he sure as hell wasn't Seifer. The smile faltered and dropped from Zell's face: Seifer, who was still at large somewhere in Balamb, probably laughing at them both. Unconsciously Zell punched his fist into his palm; maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to stop in on Squall while he was upstairs and see if he couldn't get him to change his mind about that suspension. Of course it was more likely that Ifrit would start dating Shiva before Squall assigned them another mission in Balamb, but Zell was in an optimistic mood.  
  
After all, if he had what it took to teach, _anything_ was possible, right? A quick glance back at the clock revealed that it was earlier than he had guessed; pulling on his gloves, Zell let an enthusiastic smile stretch across his face. Today was going to be a _good_ day. He finally knew what he wanted to do at Garden, Quistis was going to help him win over the girl of his dreams, and for once he was up early enough to actually have his _own_ bagel with strawberry cream cheese instead of watching other people eat them.  
  
All was right in Zell Dincht's world this morning. Today was going to be awesome, he thought happily as he swung the door of his room open and stepped outside. Today was going to be perfect. Nothing could possibly go wrong -  
  
\- except for that bucket of pungent motor oil that he suddenly found himself doused in.  
  
"The HELL?" Zell roared, tripping and falling to the floor as he scrubbed wildly at his face to clear the gunk away from his eyes. He pushed the limp flop of his hair away from his forehead and looked up -  
  
The chocobo feathers that followed really shouldn't have surprised him as much as they did at that point. Coughing and spitting, he let out a healthy string of expletives as soon as his mouth was free of the downy yellow feathers that were now plastered all over his body. Screw Quistis' date advice: this was definitely a cuss-worthy situation.  
  
"What the fuck?" Zell yelled, finally making it to his feet and spinning around, trying to wave off some of the feathers. The frantic motion only made them adhere even more firmly to the oil, and after flailing around the corridor uselessly for a few more minutes Zell finally gave up. He stood, panting, and focused on his surroundings.  
  
It was early enough so that the halls were blessedly empty; that was probably for the best, considering that Zell was currently bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Balamb Little League's Chubby Chocobo mascot. Still, that meant there was no sign of the culprits; they must have rigged the little stunt sometime last night after he was asleep.  
  
"Shit," Zell groaned, slapping his forehead and then wincing as he pulled away a wad of feathers when he removed his palm. "How the hell am I supposed to find who did this -" He stopped short as he turned around saw the message scrawled across his door. The writing was oddly neat, for graffiti; whoever wrote it would definitely have gotten marks for perfect penmanship if graffiti could be graded. Zell scowled at the offending letters; someone would be getting _marks_ all right if he found out who had set him up. Shaking away the anger, he tilted his head and read the message.  
  


_"A Chicken Wuss Should Dress Like It!"_

  
  
_Seifer?!_ For a moment Zell was so furious he could only see white. Underneath that, in much smaller, angrier letters was another message; he blinked and felt his anger subside as he read the rest of the warning.  
  


_"Stay away from Instructor Trepe!"_

  
  
Not Seifer then. The former delinquent was a lot of things, but respectful of Quistis' title as a teacher was definitely not one of them. No, Zell realized as he stared at his door. This was the handiwork of something infinitely worse than Seifer and his Posse. He had somehow drawn the attention and ire of the _Trepies_. Zell shuddered; they were worse than pit bulls. Once they sunk their teeth in, they never let go until someone died. He didn't know how Quistis managed to put up with them on a daily basis.  
  
Zell ground his teeth together and picked up a handful of feathers, using them to messily smear away the chalked-in message with a growl. Only nerds like the Trepies would be worried enough about following Garden regulations to use _board chalk_ instead of _paint_ when making graffiti. He briefly considered telling Quistis about the attack, but quickly discarded the idea. She had enough trouble dealing with them as it was; if they wanted a personal war with Zell Dincht, then that's what they were going to get.  
  
As he got to work cleaning up the mess (and himself), Zell thought viciously of the strawberry cream cheese he was missing out on. He had a pretty good idea who was behind the attack; he and Squinty had been exchanging glares for the past two days every time they crossed paths. Zell made a mental note to drop into Garden's custodial office - he'd need the carpet in front of his door steamed. Again. Granted, the first time had been an accident involving ice cream soup and had been entirely his fault. This time he'd have to bribe that custodian to get her up here again - and that was all _Squinty's_ fault.  
  
Well, that short-sighted bastard was going to get the surprise of his boring little life if he thought Zell was going to roll over and leave Quistis alone just because of a little tar and feathering. Pit bulls were still dogs, and as Ma Dincht would despairingly admit, Zell's pets never did manage to live long when under his care.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
By the time Quistis finally rolled out of bed, it was well past sunrise, meaning unusually tardy by her personal standards. Only the incessant need for caffeine had finally spurred her into motion. Rising so late was unusual, and a definite break from her normal routine.  
  
Quistis suppressed a tiny, disconsolate sigh at the thought. She was only 19 years old and she already had a _routine_. She had purposefully ignored her superfluous alarm that morning; it was unnecessary as she had long since trained her body to rise with the crack of dawn, and no amount of determination to relax could erase her self-imposed programming. It didn't mean she couldn't shut the alarm off and plop back defiantly into her pillows in order to stare at the ceiling and try to will herself back to sleep.  
  
By the time she had started to find not only rough shapes, but fully detailed landscapes and portraiture in the stains above her bed, Quistis had enough of "relaxing" and forced herself to get up. She would never have admitted it aloud, but she was almost grateful that Zell had approached her for these "lessons" - at least this way she'd have something to do. Up until this suspension, Quistis had never realized just how much of her life revolved around her Instructorship.  
  
She'd managed to crawl out of bed and into the bathroom when she heard a knock at her dormitory door. "Coming!" she yelled, hastily piling her hair on top of her head. Quistis didn't really care if any of her friends saw her in her pajama bottoms; if it was a Trepie, she'd blast the damn fool to Hyne and back. And if it was Squall - well, all things considered, she probably would do the exact same thing. It was all Squall's fault that she had nothing to do in the first place!  
  
The thought of being able to relieve some of her pent-up anger made her eyes sparkle with anticipation and she flung the door open hopefully, more than ready to lay waste to whomever was standing behind it.  
  
Instead, all she saw was an inquisitive-looking Selphie and Rinoa on the other side. Quistis let out a tiny sigh of disappointment and backed away to let them inside. Selphie was carrying a very large cup of coffee, and Rinoa held a tray on which Quistis could see enough food for a small army of SeeDs.  
  
"G'morning!" Selphie chirped, elbowing her way past Quistis and into the room.  
  
"We didn't see you at breakfast, and we got worried," Rinoa explained as the door closed behind her. She set the tray down on Quistis' coffee table. "So we thought we'd come check on you and bring you a snack."  
  
"That's... nice of you." Quistis was a little perturbed, but the coffee smelled delicious. Selphie, noticing the brief look of longing on Quistis' face, quickly passed the mug over: Quistis breathed deeply, and the lines on her face faded away.  
  
"Lookit you," Selphie said, grinning. "Sleeping in. What's the occasion?"  
  
All of Quistis' gossip alarms went off simultaneously. They probably knew her Instructorship had been suspended, but she didn't really want to discuss the details of it with them. Idly she toyed with the idea of telling them about her fake date with Zell just to get them off her back, but the repercussions would be horrible. She might actually be expected to date Zell after that.  
  
"I was... up late," she explained lamely.  
  
"Ah." Rinoa and Selphie exchanged knowing glances. Quistis' mental alarms sounded even louder, slowly bringing back the headache that the coffee had only just managed to soothe away.  
  
"So - why the breakfast?" Quistis asked, turning the tables back on them. Selphie and Rinoa were good people at heart, but lately they'd been so obsessed with her marital status that Quistis was afraid to take anything at face value.  
  
Selphie huffed in mock annoyance. "Aren't we allowed to do something nice for our bestest friend?"  
  
"Actually," Rinoa reminded her, "we wanted to do something extra nice for you to - to apologize."  
  
Quistis' eyes narrowed. "Apologize?"  
  
Selphie dramatically threw herself down on the couch next to Quistis, her eyes wide and pleading. "We finally realized just how annoyed you were with us for the whole set-up thing," she said plaintively, "and we wanted to tell you that -" she looked at Rinoa, who nodded in encouragement. "We're sorry," Selphie continued, "and we're going to lay off for a little while. You know, so you can _relax_."  
  
Quistis said nothing for a moment, sipping her coffee with a warm feeling of satisfaction. So Zell had managed to get them to back off after all. That was nice. Maybe if she laid down the truth now, let them know just how angry she was about it, they'd get the idea _for good_ and -  
  
She looked up from her coffee just in time to catch the two girls exchanging a furtive grin. _Oh_ , Quistis thought. So there was something behind this after all. The alarms in her head started jangling unpleasantly again.  
  
Rinoa smiled at her, coming to sit down on her other side. _Classic Pincer Maneuver_ , Quistis noted sourly. Rinoa had been studying up on her battle tactics classes after all. "We realized you have to be pretty upset over something to have taken a week off of teaching," she said, her voice prompting. "So, y'know..."  
  
"If there's anything you want to tell us, Quisty..." Selphie added, with an eager light in her eyes Quistis definitely didn't like.  
  
"... we'll always be right here, and willing to listen," Rinoa finished proudly.  
  
"And we're not going anywhere," Selphie added as an afterthought. Quistis supposed it was supposed to sound reassuring, but coming from her over-eager friend, it tasted distinctly more like a threat.  
  
She sipped her coffee and remained silent.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Quisty," Selphie wheedled impatiently, "what's going on? You can trust us."  
  
 _No, I can't_ , Quistis wanted to point out, but she wisely remained quiet, this time reaching for a muffin.  
  
"Quistis?" Rinoa's voice this time was hesitant. "Are you... actually that mad?"  
  
Quistis calmly took another sip of coffee. "No," she said, finally. "I'm pleased that the two of you have come to this conclusion. I'm certainly not looking for anyone to date right now, and it will make it much easier on me to not have to turn you two away. I hope you've learned something from this."  
  
The mood in the room very obviously sagged; Selphie's shoulders slumped, and Rinoa's face fell into a frown. A strange feeling of guilt settled itself into Quistis' stomach, much like it had when she'd inadvertently insulted Zell the night before. Was she really this cruel to her friends - and she'd just never noticed before?  
  
"I don't like fighting with you two," Quistis admitted stiffly, hiding her discomfort with another eager gulp of liquid caffeine. Selphie turned to her, surprised; a slow smile spread itself over Rinoa's face. Quistis felt herself blushing and buried her nose in the mug.  
  
Selphie and Rinoa exchanged another subtle glance over Quistis' lap. "So, Quisty," Rinoa began, "What're you doing later tonight?"  
  
"I'm..." Quistis paused. _'Going to dinner with Zell'_ obviously wasn't an acceptable answer. "I'm... busy."  
  
"Are you, now?" Selphie leaned in, conspiratorially. "I thought you weren't looking to date anyone?"  
  
Quistis shook her head violently. "I'm not!" she insisted, spinning wheels in her brain. "I've got... remedial lessons!" Well, it wasn't a total lie. They were lessons, of a sort; and if the study date last night was any example, Zell needed all the remedial help he could get.  
  
"Remedial lessons?" Rinoa looked puzzled. "But you're not Instructing this week."  
  
"Well," Quistis said with a nervous cough, "I can't abandon my slower students entirely, can I?" Mentally she apologized to Zell - but then hastily took it back. When it came to dating, Zell _'I call her Piggy'_ Dincht was certainly one of the slower students out there.  
  
"I was hoping we could have a girls' night," Selphie said, pouting. "Are you sure you can't reschedule?"  
  
Quistis thought for a moment. She really did owe Zell for getting the two girls off her back. "No, I can't," she said finally, shaking her head. "I'm sorry."  
  
Selphie glanced at Rinoa, winking quickly before turning back to Quistis. "Alright, then," she said, jumping up. "We'll leave you alone to enjoy your week of vacation!"  
  
"Remember," Rinoa urged, "if you need to talk, we're always here."  
  
Quistis nodded, breaking off a piece of her muffin and toying with it. "Thanks," she murmured half-heartedly as they left.  
  
As soon as the door closed, she took one last long swig of coffee and headed to her bedroom to throw some clothes on. The two girls had left her room much too easily. It sounded to her experienced ear like Selphie and Rinoa were up to something - and she didn't like the thought of that one bit.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Alright," Rinoa said, leaning across the table, "so now what?"  
  
Selphie was still fuming. She had managed to keep her cheerful smile on as they had exited Quistis' dorm; it had grown noticeably wider during their journey down the hall. By the time they were in Commons, her smile was so bright that it was nearly radioactive and just as inherently deadly. Other students were beginning to notice their progress and warily avoid them; everyone knew all too well that Selphie's apocalyptic version of _The End_ involved bright smiles and cheerful fields of flowers. When they finally settled on a small table in the Cafeteria, the surrounding area had cleared almost as quickly as Selphie's grotesque parody of a grin.  
  
"She didn't cancel it!" Her small fist hit the table, making the silverware jump. "She's still trying to prove her point, and she's going to ruin Zell's relationship to do it!"  
  
Rinoa hushed her. "All we can do is break up that date," she hissed. "It'll be harder this time. We absolutely can't let her know it was us, but it's for the best!"  
  
"What's for the best?" Irvine came out of nowhere, collapsing into a nearby chair casually and tipping his hat. "How are my two loveliest ladies doin' this mornin'? And what's for the best?"  
  
Rinoa opened her mouth to make up some lie, but Selphie spilled it first. "Quistis won't cancel her date with Zell!" she said, pouting. "We even offered to call off all the blind dates with the Trepies, and she's _still_ going."  
  
"Woah, sweetie," Irvine said, an eyebrow lifting. "Have you ever considered," he offered, "that maybe Quistis and Zell really just like each other?"  
  
Silence covered the table. Irvine glanced up. Both Selphie and Rinoa were staring at him, mouths agape, eyes slightly glazed.  
  
"Okay, so no," Irvine continued smoothly. "But really, gals. Maybe they do. They're suited for each other, don't ya think?" More silence met this statement. Irvine barreled on. "They seem to be happy at least, right? And that's all you wanted - for Quistis to find somebody to care about, somebody to spend time with." They were still staring, so Irvine finally waved his arms in frustration. " _Right?_ "  
  
"You've got to be kidding, Irvy," Selphie said finally. "Quistis and Zell are SO not compatible."  
  
Rinoa shook her head. "They'd never last," she offered. "Besides, isn't Zell dating that girl in the library?"  
  
"The one with the pigtail?" Irvine frowned in thought. "Y'know, I dunno."  
  
"Hmph," Selphie added, expressing her views on simultaneously dating two girls at once and hoping Irvine Kinneas got the point.  
  
Irvine shook his head at them both. "Look you two, you've got to stop this meddlin' with Quisty's life." He tapped the table in front of them. "Out of all of us, Quistis is the most sure of what she wants, 'kay? An' if she's happy, you ain't got no right to step in there otherwise."  
He turned to Selphie, pointing gently at her. "Promise me that you won't follow her on this date and try to wreck it, babe. Promise."  
  
Selphie sulked, her bottom lip coming out in a fairly endearing way, but in the end Irvine's disapproving frown was too much. "I promise," she whispered.  
  
"You too," he said, turning to Rinoa with the chastising finger. "Promise me. Quisty don't deserve this from you two."  
  
Rinoa sighed reluctantly. "I promise, Irvine."  
  
He gave them both an appraising look, before finally nodding in acceptance. "Good. Let those two have their fun." A thoughtful look flitted across Irvine's expression and he rubbed his chin. "Speakin' of which, I still need to visit the supply room if I want to get all this down..."  
  
"Get all what down?" Selphie asked suspiciously.  
  
Irvine blanched and quickly covered with a lazy grin. "Oh, nothin', Sefie darlin', nothin' at all." He stood up and beat a hasty retreat from the table, Selphie following his progress with narrowed eyes. When he was gone, she turned to Rinoa with a frown.  
  
"I'm going to have to hack his email account again," she concluded. "I know he's up to something, I can just smell it!"  
  
"Selphie," Rinoa began, shaking her head. "If Irvine's already upset about us meddling with Quistis' life, he's going to be furious when you start snooping in his own."  
  
"Irvy loves me," Selphie said easily, pulling Rinoa to her feet. "Besides, I have a feeling about this one. I bet it has to do with Quistis and Zell! If I can catch him in the act..."  
  
"That's a big if," Rinoa said doubtfully. Then she finally realized the direction Selphie was pulling her in. "Why are we going to the Library? I thought we agreed not to set Quistis up this time."  
  
Selphie blushed slightly but only tightened her grip around Rinoa's hand and pulled her faster down the hallway. "Technically speaking, we agreed that _we_ wouldn't meddle in Quistis' business anymore. That doesn't mean _other people_ can't, though."  
  
The two girls burst into the Library, Selphie tugging a still-reluctant Rinoa through the doors. They were immediately hushed by the librarian behind the desk - a short, skinny boy with a fierce glare. The glare turned into a suspicious squint as he recognized them.  
  
"You!" Selphie squeaked, and the boy hushed her again, glancing around at the working students.  
  
"Study room," he whispered loudly at them, gesturing to one of the small enclosures that lined one wall of the library. Selphie nodded eagerly and pulled Rinoa into the nearest empty one; the boy threw a furtive glance over his shoulder and followed, pulling the door closed behind them.  
  
"So," the boy said, his eyes narrowing into squints again, "it's my turn, is it?"  
  
Selphie looked startled. "Huh?"  
  
"Oh," Rinoa said in realization. "No, this isn't about that date."  
  
"Oh?" The boy echoed her, his tone almost threatening. "And why not? I'm next, aren't I?"  
  
"Oh!" Selphie chirped. "That! No, we threw out the list. No more dating for now!"  
  
The squinty-eyed boy's face fell, and he mumbled a much less enthused "Oh."  
  
"But we do have an eensy-teensy favor to ask you," Selphie said, leaning in on the table with a conspiratorial wink, which the boy didn't return.  
  
Personally, Squinty (as Rinoa was beginning to think of him) looked less than inclined to do them any favors after finding out about the dissolution of The List, but once again Selphie somehow managed to save the day with her impeccable logic.  
  
"We need you to be Quistis' bodyguard!"  
  
Both Rinoa and Squinty stared. It was a well-known fact that the Library Committee considered themselves to be the intellectuals of Balamb Garden, the underlying prerequisite to that being an almost total aversion to combat and physical exertion. Technically speaking, Rinoa would have made a better bodyguard than Squinty. Not so technically speaking, one of the christened SeeD trolls on Squall's desk would have made a better bodyguard, if just for the scare factor.  
  
"No, really!" Selphie said with a pout. "Just think of it as the next step up from dating. We're entrusting you with Quistis' personal safety."  
  
Squinty squared his shoulders, narrowing his eyes yet again. "What in the world are you talking about?"  
  
Rinoa opened her mouth to say - what, she didn't know, but she felt the strange urge to insert some sense into the conversation. However, Selphie barreled on, caught up in her own enthusiasm.  
  
"Look, Quistis is at a very difficult time in her life right now, and she's made a couple decisions that aren't... _appropriate_. So we need you to give her a... a helping hand, yeah, just a little bit of help to get her back on track!" She hopped from one foot to the other. "Look, uh..."  
  
"Martin," the squinty-eyed boy interjected sourly.  
  
"Martin!" Selphie squealed, as if it were the best name on the planet. Personally, Rinoa thought 'Squinty' was a better fit. "Look, Martin, we need your help to ruin this date, and -"  
  
The change was profound. Squinty's entire body froze up, and he leaned forward, an angry look spreading across his face. "Date?" he hissed.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Selphie replied, a little perturbed. "Quisty's going on a date with Zell Dincht tonight, and... well, it's in everybody's best interest if the date doesn't go well," she finished with a beaming smile.  
  
"Consider it done," Squinty said immediately, with a glint in his eye that made Rinoa more than a little nervous.  
  
As they left the study room, Rinoa spotted a girl behind the desk - shy, pretty face, with one long pigtail hanging down her back. She tugged Selphie around the nearest bookshelf. "Isn't that Zell's girlfriend?"  
  
Selphie craned her neck around the shelf. "Yeah!" she exclaimed. "Should we go talk to her?"  
  
"No," Rinoa hissed, "we can't let her know that Zell is - that Quisty is - about the date!"  
  
Selphie bit her lip, pensive. "You're right." She shook her head. "But it'll all be over tonight!"  
  
As the two girls exited the library, Selphie leaned in and gave an exaggerated wink to the girl with the pigtail, repeating in a loud stage whisper, "It'll all be over tonight." They didn't notice the flush that spread across her face, or the utterly confused look she gave them as they left.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Quistis had tried everywhere - the dorms, the Cafeteria, the Training Center, even the Library - and the last place she would have expected to find Zell Dincht was in the custodial corridor.  
She'd actually just been walking past the custodial desk on her way to the laundry - maybe he was in there - and she'd heard a familiar voice. "Zell?" she hissed.  
  
The blond jumped into the air, startled, but managed to do an impressive turn and come down mostly facing the other way. "Quisty?" Zell said, his voice surprised and a little shaky. She noticed him glancing nervously up and down the corridor, as if searching for something. When he finally seemed satisfied that she was alone, he relaxed slightly. "What's up?"  
  
"What are you doing down here?" Quistis asked pointedly.  
  
"Oh. Heh..." Zell rubbed his tattoo nervously. "I, uh, I spilled somethin' on my carpet, an'... yeah, it smells real bad."  
  
"Were you running with your ice cream again?" Quistis asked, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"No!" Zell exclaimed, but then hastily gathered himself together. "I mean... uhh, yeah." Inwardly, he was gritting his teeth. At least last time he had the perfectly valid excuse of wiping out while trying to do that new move on his T-board. If he only could've gotten all that ice cream into his mouth while upside-down, he would have proved once and for all that 360-degree turns really _could_ prevent brain-freeze. This time was different, though. Now he ran the danger of sounding like a klutz in front of Quistis. Oh, when he got his hands on him, Squinty was going to pay...  
  
Quistis opened her mouth to make a comment, and then thought better of it, closing her lips tightly and shaking her head. "Zell, we need to talk."  
  
"Hold on." Zell turned back to the custodial desk, signing a messy signature across the paperwork and giving the secretary a broad grin. "We okay then?" he asked her; she nodded, and Zell turned back to Quistis.  
  
"So, what's up?"  
  
She took off at a brisk pace down the hall, trying to find an area where there weren't many people. "Zell, we need to -" Abruptly she stopped, reminded of something.  
  
"First," she said, swallowing and squaring her shoulders slightly, "I - I need to thank you. Selphie and Rinoa both said they were finished with the... blind dates." Her fingers clenched automatically in a way that made Zell flinch slightly.  
  
"Eh," he said, shrugging, attempting to get her to relax, "it was nothin'. Just part of the deal."  
  
Quistis snapped back into focus. "Yes, the deal," she repeated. "Zell, I have a bad idea about tonight. I think Selphie and Rinoa are... up to something."  
  
"Up to somethin'?" Zell stretched lazily. "When are those two NOT up to somethin'?"  
  
Quistis shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I believe the two of them are going to... interfere in our... lessons, if they can."  
  
Zell blinked. "Whaddaya mean?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Quistis said with a sigh, sitting down on a nearby bench. "They were in my room this morning, and they kept asking me about tonight. It was highly suspicious." She sighed again. "They can't leave well enough alone, Selphie and Rinoa. I believe... they think I've found someone to date myself, and for some reason they want to interfere."  
  
Quistis sounded so depressed that Zell sat down on the bench next to her, grinning. "C'mon, cheer up, Quisty," he said, reaching out to poke her shoulder. "We can still go."  
  
"With them following us?" Quistis shot back. "What if they assume I'm dating _you?_ "  
  
Zell shrugged, still grinning. "What if they can't follow us?"  
  
Quistis paused, looking at him. "What on earth do you mean?"  
  
"You've never snuck out of Garden, have you?" Zell snickered at the look of utter shock on Quistis' face. "C'mon, Quisty, it's really easy. There’s lots of ways to do it. There's a back door in the kitchen they use to load and unload the hot dogs - eh, I mean, the food for the Cafeteria."  
  
Quistis was now looking at him with chagrin. "Zell, we absolutely cannot sneak out of Garden!"  
  
"Gonna have to," Zell retorted. "Squall said we weren't allowed go near Balamb for a couple of days anyhow!"  
  
There was a moment of silence while the two remembered the vicious tongue-lashing. "Alright," Quistis finally admitted. "You're right. We _are_ going to have to sneak out."  
  
Zell pumped a fist in the air. "You just leave it to me, Quisty!"  
  
Quistis buried her face in the palm of her hand. She was breaking a perfect (well, near-perfect) record of Garden obedience to sneak out. For a date. With Zell Dincht. And because Seifer Almasy had ruined her Balamb privileges. It was all a little much for her dignity to take.  
  
Zell, however, looked even more excited than before. "Alright. I gotta re-Junction - who has Diablos anyways? - and then we're golden, baby! E! N! C! None! And we're out that door!" It was almost a cheer, and Quistis hushed him instinctively, biting back a snarky comment relating to Zell's Junctioning priorities and why sneaking out rated higher on the list than an actual mission.  
  
"Oh, and wear civvies," Zell added as an afterthought. "Nobody in Balamb'll recognize ya in civvies."  
  
"It's a date, Zell," Quistis said. "People tend to dress up for occasions like that."  
  
"Really?" Zell shook his head, distracted by his plotting. "Anyway - meet me in the Cafeteria around 1700 and we'll head out! I'll take care of everything else!"  
  
Quistis sighed and stood to go. She had three hours to prepare herself until - quite possibly - all hell broke loose.  
  



	6. In Which A Dinner Date Goes Badly

Quistis stood before the mirror and studied her reflection critically. Though it was true that she had been on multiple "dates" before - thanks to Selphie and Rinoa's careful planning - this qualified as quite possibly the first time she had ever had to dress for one. Part of her abstractly wished that Zell had stipulated exactly what type of "civvies" she was supposed to wear. The other part of her instinctively knew that whatever fashion advice Zell might have given her was definitely not to be heeded, lest her dignity suffer yet another blow.  
  
Still, as she picked at her navy blazer and tan slacks, the frown refused to ease off her face. There was _nothing wrong_ with dressing conservatively, she told herself sternly. After all, it was more of a lesson than an actual date, wasn't it? Her reflection narrowed its eyes.  
  
"I look like a school marm," Quistis groaned, tossing off the jacket.  
  
Angrily she strode back to her closet and flung it open. The pickings were, admittedly, meager. An old cadet uniform hung in the back of the closet. Two crisply pressed SeeD uniforms in perfect condition were next, unused due to her week of inactivity as a teacher. A couple of different permutations of her peach battle gear could be found next to them; experience had taught her that it was always good to have a few spares. And on the shelves next to that, her neatly folded t-shirts and sweats, for those lazy days of bumming around her room. Truth be told, there were very few choices in Quistis' inventory of casual wear. With a slight sigh of annoyance, she realized it was because it was so rarely that she ever had the need to dress casually. And when she did, Rinoa and Selphie were usually on hand to loan her articles of clothing as well as advice: definitely not an option in this case.  
  
She stole a glance back at the jacket on the bed and let out a heavy sigh. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered under her breath, reaching for the old cadet uniform. Pushing it aside, she revealed a small stack of boxes and bags that were lurking behind it. They were spoils of war from Selphie and Rinoa's self-proclaimed "girl's day out" excursions - something which usually involved much more shopping and gossiping than Quistis was comfortable participating in. Each time they happened, inevitably one of the girls would force her to buy something to wear, with the explicit instruction that it could not be peach. She had relegated most of the results to the darkest corners of her closet, certain that they would never see the light of day again.  
  
Now, as she threw them across her bed and began to root through the clothing, an unfamiliar feeling washed over her. Funny, but it felt suspiciously like - gratitude? Quistis shook her head, glancing at the clock, and filed the strange sensation away for closer inspection at a later date. Perhaps she owed Selphie and Rinoa an apology for more things than she realized, but at the moment her primary concern was making it to the Cafeteria on time, unnoticed and most importantly, dressed appropriately.  
  
She couldn't bring herself to touch anything with sparkles, though, and the shirt with all the ruffles was right out... _ah_. Quistis yanked at one of the tailored sleeves expectantly. The black sweater was plain and simple - _perfect_ \- but its low neck was alluring enough for a fancy, candle-lit dinner.  
  
 _Lesson_ , Quistis corrected herself sternly. This _was_ just Zell. But at the same time, she was looking forward to dressing up a little. The life of a SeeD Instructor was harshly practical, and it had been ages since she'd actually tried to look nice for a date. The lush pile of clothing on her bed was urging her to be a little... risqué. Fancy. Elegant. Perhaps she'd even put on makeup.  
  
She tugged out a sleek grey skirt and smiled in approval. There was even a touch of black lace trim at the bottom that normally would have had her frowning coldly; instead, she nodded decisively and headed to her bathroom to change. There was nothing wrong with dressing up, either, even if it was just for Zell. She was teaching a lesson here, and atmosphere was critical: surely Zell's dream girl was more feminine than the average Instructor. And besides - eventually he'd have to learn how not to be flustered by a woman, right?  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Oh no!" Selphie peered out cautiously from behind the pillar she was pressed against and worried her lip. "She's going through with it!" Fingers tightened painfully around her arm and she glanced back at Rinoa, whose mouth was dropping open.  
  
"Hey! Isn't that the sweater I picked out last year? And your skirt! I told you it'd look great on her!" Rinoa exclaimed softly, a pleased smile stretching over her face – then suddenly dropping into a horrified gasp. "She's dressing up for _Zell!_ This is worse than we thought!"  
  
Selphie nodded mutely, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Where the heck is Martin?" she hissed. "He was supposed to put a stop to this! You can't trust those squinty library types at all," she muttered. "Come on!" She began to storm after Quistis, hell-bent on confronting her, when Rinoa pulled her sharply back.  
  
"Selphie! Irvine!" she whispered with a look of panic.  
  
"We promised Irvine we wouldn't follow Quistis on her date. She's not on a date yet, is she?" Selphie rationalized, dragging Rinoa into the corridor after her.  
  
"Yes, but -!"  
  
"Rinoa! What happened to your guts? Come on, I thought you wanted to help save Quisty too!" With another firm tug, she whirled around - and smacked directly into a tall, lanky figure wearing an all-too-familiar leather duster.  
  
"- Irvine's right behind you," Rinoa finished lamely.  
  
"'Evenin', ladies," Irvine said lazily, peering knowingly at Selphie. "Fine night for a stroll, ain't it?"  
  
"Irvy!" Selphie squeaked, her eyes round. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Irvine casually tucked the hand that was holding the small camera behind his back and tried to look nonchalant. "Well, since someone 'sides me was checkin' my email again, I figured I might need to keep an eye on you two."  
  
Rinoa blushed, but Selphie recovered almost instantaneously. "Yeah, well if you'd tell me who Tilla, Alice, Pamela, Cindy and Rhea are in the first place I might not need to ask them myself!" she huffed, and Irvine blanched.  
  
"H-hey, this ain't about me, this is about you two ruinin' Quistis' date!" he said quickly, managing to avoid Selphie's burning glare. Admittedly, it was providing the girls with enough of a distraction to keep them from following Quistis, but even Irvine had a sense of self-preservation. He owed Zell big, but not THAT big.  
  
"We're not trying to ruin anyone's date, Irvine," Rinoa interrupted, delicately nudging Selphie before any sort of explosion might occur. "We just wanted to... umm... talk to Quistis before she left. Isn't that right?"  
  
Selphie didn't answer; instead, she peered over Irvine's shoulder, her eyes widening. "Guys! She's getting away!" she yelled, jumping angrily. The sound of Quistis' heels - _when was the last time she'd worn heels?_ Rinoa thought dazedly - was vanishing down the hallway.  
  
"What? Aww, dang blast -" Irvine muttered, sullenly bringing the camera out and flicking off the power.  
  
"Irvine... is there something you're not telling us?"  
  
He found both of the girls staring at him and blanched again, smiling nervously. "Oh, ah, this thing? It's... it's..." _For clearing my debts with Zell_ didn't seem like a good answer, considering that it would lead Selphie to question why he had debts in the first place, and could potentially result in the discovery of how exactly his freshly-laundered SeeD uniform had ended up covered in T-board wax that one time.  
  
"It's for a party!" he huffed.  
  
"Party?" Selphie perked up instantly, but this time Rinoa's face darkened. Irvine winced; trying to handle both girls at the same time was like trying to juggle angry knife-wielding Tonberries coated in motor oil. Well, except that the Tonberry was much less dangerous.  
  
"There haven't been any parties scheduled recently," Rinoa continued sweetly, glaring at Irvine. "I've checked."  
  
"That's... uh... 'cause it's a surprise party, darlin'!" Irvine said with a broad smile.  
  
"Ohh, those are the best kind!" Selphie squealed, the mission to waylay Quistis almost completely forgotten in her excitement. "So whose birthday is it, anyway?"  
  
"No one's," Rinoa offered helpfully, still directing a saccharine-sweet smile at Irvine. "Or is there another friend of ours that we've been forgetting about, hmm?"  
  
 _Well, shit_. Irvine cast about in his mind for something, _anything_ , that would throw Rinoa off the scent. Fortunately, he always had been a little more wary of junctioning GFs than the others, and one obvious answer rose to mind in his memory. Whether or not it was a wise answer was a completely different matter, though - one Irvine didn’t want to think about.  
  
"Seifer!" he blurted out.  
  
Irvine was pretty sure from the twin expressions of shock on the girls' faces that he had ensured Quistis and Zell a trouble-free evening. Hell, at this rate they would probably be trouble-free for the entire _week_. He, on the other hand, was mortally screwed.  
  
"Seifer," Selphie repeated faintly, blinking. "You're throwing a party for _Seifer_."  
  
Rinoa's reaction was slightly more worrisome. " _You're_ throwing a party for Seifer," she ground out dangerously.  
  
Basic training stated that when in doubt while surrounded by hostiles, SeeDs should assume a defensive posture and employ diversionary tactics to minimalize casualties. And Irvine was, if nothing else, a good SeeD.  
  
" _Squall's_ plannin' the whole thing!" Briefly he wondered if his suspension was going to be quite as bad as Quistis and Zell's.  
  
"But Squall _hates_ Seifer," Rinoa replied, her delicate brows furrowing in confusion. "Why in Hyne's name would he..." She shook her head angrily. "No. No! He was already upset enough when Seifer's name came up with -"  
  
Irvine waved a hand lazily through the air. In for a penny, in for the whole damn pound, he reasoned. "'Cause they blew his cover, babe. Now that Seifer knows somethin's up, gonna be twice as hard to bring him in, won't it?"  
  
Rinoa looked like she was going to faint. Selphie, on the other hand, still looked mildly doubtful - but the prospect of planning another major event clearly overrode her misgivings.  
  
"This is gonna be so romantic! Balamb Garden, welcoming back its prodigal son with open arms! No wonder Squall's keeping it quiet, this would _totally_ ruin his reputation as a hard-ass!" She leapt up and hugged Irvine tightly, squealing with delight. "We'll definitely need music. And special lighting! You think we can convert the Quad?" she prattled eagerly.  
  
" _Squall's_ throwing a birthday party. For _Seifer_ ," Rinoa repeated slowly, still not convinced.  
  
Irvine winced and patted Selphie on the back. This went WAY beyond the laundry incident; personally he thought it qualified as the grand mother of all debt reversals. Hell, even _Quistis_ owed him one. He only hoped that those two were having a better time that evening than he was.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Quistis had finally made it to the Cafeteria with only seven outright stares, three whistles and a pair of cat-calls that had quickly ended with a hurried dosage of Silence. She hadn't really thought through the potential side effects of walking through Garden in very nice (and flattering) civilian clothing. And she'd taken the back way! The thought of meeting Selphie and Rinoa - or, Hyne forbid, _Irvine_ \- in her tell-tale outfit had brought butterflies to her stomach, so she'd chosen the maze of stairs usually only frequented by the custodial staff or truant students. She mentally thanked both Shiva and Ifrit that there were no obvious Trepies about, or else her whole cover may have been blown. Although, she realized with a chuckle, the Trepies probably wouldn't have recognized her with her hair down.  
  
Slightly frazzled, Quistis hurried on her way, wondering how exactly Zell was planning on sneaking out at the Garden Cafeteria's busiest time of the day. The halls were thronging with students, most of which were headed the same way she was and only gave her a glance in passing as they hurried towards their precious hot dogs.  
  
She spotted Zell almost immediately. He was shadowboxing against a particularly high potted plant - not the most subtle of pastimes - and Quistis hurried over to him, her nerves singing with fear that one of her students would spot her. "Zell," she hissed, "you had better have a good plan for this."  
  
"Don't worry, Quisty," he said, turning around - and then he froze. Quistis watched as the red tint ran its way up his neck and completely over his face. "Uh," he stuttered, suddenly looking everywhere except at her face.  
  
Of course, that brought his gaze directly upon her décolleté sweater, which only made him flush that much harder. Zell had never seen Quistis with her hair down, let alone in something with lace. She looked so... _pretty_. Wasn't this supposed to just be a lesson? He'd almost forgotten to comb his hair!  
  
Self-consciously, Quistis tucked her hair behind her ears and adjusted her glasses. "Can we go?" she asked pointedly.  
  
"Whew," Zell gasped, recovering slightly (though still red-faced). Her no-nonsense tone had managed to cut through the uncomfortable haze that had been starting to impair his language skills and brought him crashing back to reality. "Thank Hyne - you're complainin'. For a second there I thought you weren't Quistis Trepe!"  
  
"Ha, ha," Quistis deadpanned. "Now please, Zell, before all of Garden learns you're taking me out for dinner."  
  
"Right-o!" Zell gave her a flashy thumbs-up and then leant in. "So here's what's up. I got Diablos junctioned, see, an' all I gotta do is activate that ENC-None ability of his. An' then we just sneak out the back door!"  
  
"Right," Quistis said slowly, still unconvinced. "Will you get to it? There are almost a thousand people in this room, if you haven't noticed."  
  
"Relax, Quisty," Zell replied, his face scrunching up in concentration as he prepared himself. "The best place not t' be noticed is in a room full of people!"  
  
Quistis simply shook her head at this phenomenal example of Zell logic, but at that point she heard a sharp intake of breath; Zell had apparently activated the ability. A brief shimmer of magic flowed through her body, resonating slightly with her own GFs before fading away.  
"Sweet!" Zell whispered. "Now just follow me."  
  
"Do we really have to whisper?" Quistis asked back, her voice hushed.  
  
"Nah." Zell flipped her a grin. "But it's more fun that way. Now c'mon."  
  
He grabbed her hand before she could protest and led her straight for the swinging doors which led into the kitchens. Quistis allowed herself to be dragged, wondering what sort of story she could concoct to explain her role in this debacle. Blackmail? Drugs? Mind control? But as she glanced around nervously, she noticed something - or particularly, a lack of something: attention. None of the students were even glancing at them. Apparently Zell's theory had some merit. Quistis wondered idly how often he’d done this, and then realized she definitely did not want to know the answer.  
  
They ducked carefully through the doors, and Zell led her through the maze of kitchens, stopping only momentarily to gaze longingly at the tray of hot dogs in the roaster. Quistis, still nervous, prodded him forward; he sighed, but continued on.  
  
"See, the back door," he whispered to her over his shoulder, "an' I bet you don't know where it goes!"  
  
"I most certainly do not," Quistis asserted.  
  
"The garage!" Zell pushed the door open with a flourish. "See? We can just snag one of Garden's cars an' get there in style, baby!"  
  
Quistis leveled him with a look and felt the Enc-None field falter slightly before fading away completely. "And you don't think anyone will notice a missing vehicle?"  
  
"Uh, well," Zell countered, rubbing the back of his neck, "I figured we'd take somethin' nobody would miss, y'know..."  
  
This was how Quistis found herself seated in the passenger seat of one of Garden's blocky, pasty-gray cargo vans, with Zell hooting out the window as they pulled out of the garage. Idly, she brushed a wrinkle from her skirt. _Get there in style, indeed._  
  
"So," she said finally, "where are you taking me?"  
  
Zell turned to her quick enough to flash another huge grin. "Wendigo's!"  
  
After ten seconds of chilling silence, he dared give her another smile. "Umm... not Wendigo's?"  
  
"Zell," Quistis began, her voice obviously exasperated, "Wendigo's is a somewhat dirty bar with holes in the screens, three broken pool tables, and a bartender who looks like Cerberus on a bad day."  
  
"Only two of the tables are broken," Zell corrected her. "Frank got some insurance money from that one fight three weeks ago and fixed one of 'em."  
  
"Fascinating." Quistis' voice was short. "Zell, what makes you think this is a suitable place for a date? A _first_ date, at that?"  
  
"I love Wendigo's," Zell protested. "They've got the cheapest jukebox in town, an' the fries are delicious, an' if Lillica is servin' you can get a free shot!"  
  
"Zell," Quistis replied sternly, "the first date is your first chance - in fact, sometimes it's your only chance - to show the girl how much she means to you and that you know how to treat her right."  
  
"What's wrong with Wendigo's?" Zell huffed. "I mean, shouldn't I be sharin' the things I like the best with my girl?"  
  
Quistis opened her mouth to reply, but paused. Zell's logic did have a point, albeit a strange one. Most of her dates had been students looking to woo her with their expensive tastes in wine and décor. One or two had tried something they thought might have been fun - dancing, or the cinema - but most people were preoccupied with the stereotype of _sweeping her off her heels_. "That's for later in the relationship, Zell," she corrected him finally. "For the first date, a woman likes to be flattered."  
  
"Fine." Zell sulked behind the wheel. "Where should I take Piggy, then?"  
  
Quistis quenched a smile at both the sulking and the nickname. "There are plenty of nice restaurants in Balamb," she explained. "There's the Balamb Bounty..." she trailed off, thinking of the menu prank that had spawned their ill-fated Balamb mission. "Well, let's not go there," she said decisively. "There's also the Crown Plaza in the hotel, and then Felicia's on the Wharf."  
  
"Felicia's?" Zell's eyes were huge. "You're kiddin', right? A dinner there is, like, my whole SeeD salary!"  
  
"Felicia's it is," Quistis noted with satisfaction. "You have to give a girl the best."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Squinty emerged from his spot around a nearby building, and narrowed his eyes as the two blondes walked into the restaurant at the end of the pier.  
  
It had been all too easy to follow them - on the motorbike he'd very legally signed out from the Transportation Office. One of the perks of being on the Library Committee was the extra stripe it gave you on your uniform for service. He'd had no trouble convincing the woman at the desk that he just wanted to 'take a spin' and 'blow off some steam.'  
  
 _Blow off a little more than just steam_. Squinty had noted that Zell was taking Quistis to Felicia's on the Wharf, the most expensive and fanciest restaurant in Balamb. It was where he'd planned on taking Instructor Trepe on their very first date. There, he'd order her a fine white wine and scallops. She loved scallops, he could just see it. And she'd be so impressed with his choices and his generosity that she'd...  
  
The squint turned into a glare. Squinty shook his head: it was time to focus.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
It had taken Quistis up until they'd reached the door of Felicia's to finally observe Zell's attire. She hadn't noticed because it was the same exact thing he wore every day - jean shorts, this time with a ripped pocket, and an oversized polo with his trademark vest over it. She sighed, albeit under her breath, and opened her mouth to suggest the Balamb Bounty instead - but Zell had already reached the fancy doors and thrown them wide open with a dramatic flair.  
  
Zell whistled loudly, staring at the plush interior of Felicia's on the Wharf with wide eyes. "Fan-cy! So, which table do ya want, Quisty? Hey, that one by the window looks real nice..." he observed, starting to move in the direction of the table. Then he tripped as he was pulled back suddenly. "Oww!"  
  
Quistis silently groaned and directed a placating smile towards the maitre d'hotel, who was eyeing them with distaste from behind his podium. It was still much too early for the restaurant to be full, something which Quistis was actually thankful for as she hurriedly tried to give Zell a crash course in fine dining.  
  
"You don't seat yourself in restaurant of this caliber, Zell!"  
  
"Why not? The place is practically empty!" Zell complained. He shut his mouth quickly when Quistis shot him one of her looks, the one that said she was being liberal about the application of her Silence spells again.  
  
"A table for two," she said crisply to the maitre d'hotel, keeping her chin high and her gaze cool as the man casually dropped his eyes to Zell's shorts-and-sneakers attire with obvious disdain. "Non-smoking," she added icily for good measure, daring him to turn them away. After a brief battle of wills, the man gave a haughty sniff and motioned for them to follow him. For a brief moment Quistis was afraid he was going to seat them directly next to the kitchen door, but to her relief he actually led them to one of the outdoor tables on the restaurant's balcony overlooking Balamb's small quay. Obviously, the attendant had seated them there in the hopes of keeping them out of sight from the regular patrons. And normally, the fisherman's quay was a smelly and crowded locale, not a particularly desirable spot to dine in. On this particular day, however, a brisk evening breeze conveniently whisked away the more pungent reminders of Balamb's major source of income, and exaggerated reports of the Balamb Bandits' escapades had sent most of the fishers home early. The setting sun lit the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold, which reflected softly across the dark ocean waves. She paused to drink in the sight, and Zell let out another low whistle.  
  
"Hey, maybe there _is_ somethin' to this winin'-and-dinin' stuff after all," he murmured appreciatively. Then with a grin, he pulled out chair and seated himself at the table eagerly. "Whoa," Zell mumbled to himself, eyeing the place setting warily. Eating in the Dincht household had always been a simple affair - one plate, one set of utensils, one glass to drink from and one hearty, home-cooked meal. The daunting array of gleaming cutlery that greeted him looked more like one of Dr. Odine's scientific experiments than the preparation for a meal. Why did he need two forks? What was up with all those glasses? And did they actually expect him to eat his napkin?! Maybe it was just dolled up like a fortune cookie on the plate because the appetizer was hiding inside. Eagerly, Zell grabbed and the cloth and shook it out... only to let out a disappointed grunt when he found it was empty. There was the sound of a throat being cleared, and he looked up to see Quistis was still standing, one hand on her hip and her eyebrows lowered dangerously.  
  
"Zell?" she said expectantly, looking mildly upset.  
  
"Why don'tcha sit down already, Quisty? Are ya worried about wrinklin' your skirt?" he asked. Her eyebrow began to twitch, and Zell scrabbled to remember the few table manners Ma Dincht had tried to imprint on him in his youth before she had given up. It hit him suddenly, and he before he could stop himself his mouth was moving. "Aww, shit!" The wine glasses rattled precariously on the table as he hurriedly scooted away and leapt to his feet. "Sorry, I forgot!" he mumbled, flushing furiously as he raced around the table and pulled out the chair out for her.  
  
"It's fine," Quistis said curtly, settling comfortably into her seat. "Just don't forget to do it when you're on a real date."  
  
Zell rubbed the back of his head and began to move away, but Quistis caught his arm and stopped him. "Actually, there's something else you might want to do while you're here," she told him in a business-like tone. "Women appreciate thoughtful gestures when being seated at a table like this. If you wanted to be polite, you could unfold my napkin and present it to me while you're here."  
  
"You... you want me to get your napkin for you," Zell repeated slowly. She _couldn't_ be serious. As if to prove him wrong, Quistis made a small noise of impatience and nodded at him.  
  
"Yes, Zell. It's not that complicated. Take the napkin and present it to me."  
  
Holy cow, she _was_ serious. Zell felt his face turning red as he eyed the huge cloth wonton on her plate. "You sure about this?" he asked, slowly reaching for the fabric as if it might bite him and fumbling with the loosely-folded knot. He reached a trembling, napkin-filled hand out towards her - and choked. "I- I can't do it, Quisty! It ain't right!" he yelled.  
  
Quistis was eying him strangely again, and she let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Zell," she finally said, rolling her eyes upwards. "I know you're shy, but this is ridiculous. You're going to have to get over it if you want to make a good impression on any girl. Now," and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Give me the damn napkin." She smiled in approval as Zell clumsily flapped the cloth out, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then she froze as he reached for her chest.  
  
"ZELL!" she screamed, slapping his hand away.  
  
"OWW! Geez, Quistis, that HURT!" he yelled, backing away and cradling the rapidly-reddening appendage to his chest. She might have been dressed fancy, but Quistis sure didn't _hit_ like a girl.  
  
"Of course it did!" Quistis hissed furiously, trying to control the red flush on her cheeks. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"  
  
"You're the one who told me the guy's supposed to put the napkin on the girl!" Zell replied defensively, flapping the offending culprit at her. "It ain't my fault you're wearin'... _that!_ " he mumbled, flushing red again as he waved the cloth at her plunging neckline.  
  
Reflexively, Quistis looked down at herself, still fuming. "What on earth does my sweater have to do with -" She blinked and looked up, her face frozen in surprise.  
  
"Uh, Quisty?" Zell said nervously, waving a hand in front of her face. To his dismay, the surprise began to melt into incredulity.  
  
"Zell! You do NOT wear your napkin as a BIB, especially in a restaurant like this one!" she hissed at him, her eyes bright with unspoken anger.  
  
"You don't?" Quistis glared, and Zell quickly corrected himself. "You don't!" he stated firmly. "So, uh, what do I do with it then?"  
  
"You place it across your lap!" she snapped.  
  
Zell instantly turned red again. "You want me to stick my hand in your LAP?" he yelped.  
  
Quistis leaned over and snatched the napkin out of Zell's hands before he could get any more brilliant ideas. "Just... sit down, and skip this whole part next time," she ground out.  
  
Zell shifted his weight uncertainly. "Uh... you sure? If it's real important, I can try again -"  
  
"SIT!" Quistis commanded him, her voice cracking very much like her whip. Zell managed to seat himself in record time, sending the wine glasses wobbling again. A tense silence settled over the table as Zell fidgeted nervously with his forks and Quistis tried to regain her equilibrium, dropping her forehead into a waiting palm. The silence stretched for so long that Zell was just beginning to reenact the famous saber battle from _Moomba Wars_ with two of his knives when the waiter finally approached their table and broke his concentration.  
  
"... Good evening," he said warily as he observed Zell, directing the greeting towards Quistis. "My name is Staniel, and I will be assisting you," he continued politely. "Tonight, we have a very fine Pinot Chardonnay available, as well as a '98 Merlot, which was a very good year indeed."  
  
"What's a - oomph!" Zell closed his mouth as Quistis' heeled foot came into brief but painful contact with the top of his sneaker. "Uh, I mean, do you guys got any Dollet Blast?"  
  
"Dollet Blast," the waiter faltered, staring at Zell as the tip of his pen wavered.  
  
"Yeah, with vanilla if you got that kind," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"One Dollet Blast with vanilla," the waiter repeated with contempt. "And for the lady... ?"  
  
"I'll have the Chardonnay," Quistis said quickly. She accepted the menu from the waiter gracefully and waited until he disappeared before leaning over the table. "Did you really have to order _root beer?_ " she asked irritably.  
  
"What's wrong with root beer? I'm drivin' tonight, ain't I?" Zell replied hotly. He was beginning to feel a little defensive; if dates could be graded, he was pretty sure he was flunking badly. Quistis sure was a tough customer to please; he wondered if dating Piggy would be half as nerve-wracking.  
  
Quistis drummed her fingertips across the table in a staccato beat; training Zell in the art of fine dining was beginning to look slightly less appealing that trying to housebreak a rambunctious Carbuncle. Finally, she sighed. "There's nothing wrong with root beer. One thing you should have done when the waiter was here, however, was order something for both of us."  
  
Zell stared at her blankly. "Why? If you wanted root beer instead of that shard-on-hay stuff, you should've asked for it yourself." Then he grinned at her broadly. "S'okay, though, if you really want it that bad, we can share mine!"  
  
Quistis tried counting down from ten backwards. She made it to nine before her eyes flew open. "I don't want to share your Dollet Blast, Zell!" she spat. Seeing him bunch up under her sudden outburst, she tried to modulate her tone into something less censured. "A proper gentleman would order something for the lady in a situation like this," she said carefully.  
  
His reaction wasn't what she expected; after a brief and obvious struggle with his embarrassment, he straightened up and looked her in the eye. Zell was no stranger to flunking on his exams, but at least at Garden he had the excuse of not studying. This stuff... this was like being quizzed in a foreign language without having even been told the subject. It was starting to irk him, and he felt the need to defend his pride from Quistis' withering glares. "Well, _why?_ None of this stuff makes sense, Quisty! How am I supposed t'know what you want if you don't tell me? Besides, why would ya need someone like me to make up your mind anyway? You can talk for yourself just fine!"  
  
Quistis, surprised at the sudden outburst, fumbled for a reply. "Because... because... that's just how it's done!" she finally said, gesturing at the table helplessly.  
  
"That's stupid," she heard Zell mutter under his breath. To her surprise, Quistis found herself agreeing. She never had thought about it before; most of her previous dinner encounters had been conducted by dates so eager to prove themselves to her that they always ordered the most expensive things on the menu before she could make her own input. It had gotten to the point where she was ready to swear that if she ever saw another scallop again, she would force it up her over-eager partner's nostril.  
  
In fact... Quistis paused. Why were first-dates always such an intricate dance? Why couldn't things be simple? She'd gotten sick of the dinner-dates with frightened young cadets so worried about getting something _wrong_ that they got nothing _right_. Where had those strange set rules come from anyway? Perhaps Pupu had descended his proverbial mountain bearing the two stone tablets of Dating Rules long ago and engrained them onto the human populace. It certainly seemed that those unspoken rules of behavior came from outer space at times.  
  
Something struck Quistis then, and she looked up at Zell with that Instructor gleam in her eyes that made him mildly nervous. "Think of it as a set of rules, Zell," she began, "much like your SeeD manual."  
  
Zell made a grotesque face and a very loud vomiting sound that attracted the disdain of a nearby garcon. Quistis rolled her eyes and continued the lecture.   
  
"There are a lot of rules that Garden has that may make no sense on the surface, but they've been rules for so long that everyone just assumes they're there for a reason."  
  
"Like no T-Boards in the Library," Zell grumbled.  
  
Quistis paused, directing her mind away from the obvious argument and back to the dinner-date. "Most likely, they're there for a good reason, even if we don't understand it completely ourselves. Believe me, Zell, there are rules to follow for a first date," she said firmly, "and the better you know them and act on them, the more impressive you will be to your girl."  
  
Zell appeared to be digesting her words slowly, his innocently thoughtful expression darkening with each word as his forehead wrinkled in dismay. "The hell? But I thought dating was supposed to be _fun!_ " he protested, and Quistis held her hand up to silence him.  
  
" _For example_ ," she said with emphasis before Zell could get another word in, "at the beginning of the meal, the man usually orders a bottle of wine. White wine is usually safer. Like the Chardonnay."  
  
Zell was looking at her blankly. "They can make wine outta hay? Does it taste any good?"  
  
Quistis took a calming breath. So Zell didn't know anything about wine; she tried to remember that he had other areas of expertise separate from her own. He could probably identify the seven different permutations of Hynekan by taste alone. She suspected he would be able to do so while suspended upside-down from the ceiling with the beer tap in his mouth. In fact, she had a picture of him doing just that at last year's graduation party. Belatedly Quistis realized the rationalization wasn't helping to calm her nerves and forced herself to answer him as civilly as she could. "If you don't know anything about wine, order the house white," she snapped.  
  
Zell shook his head slowly, ticking off on his fingers. "So I gotta hold the chair for you, do that... napkin... thingy," he mumbled, his face flushing red again as he desperately tried not to look at Quistis' sweater, "an' then I gotta order some fancy bottle of wine? What if I don't like wine? What if _you_ don't like wine?"  
  
"You can ask your date," Quistis allowed. "It's the gesture that counts, really. _'Would you care for a glass of wine? White maybe?'_ Something like that."  
  
" _Would you care for a glass of wine?_ " Zell parroted in a high-pitched imitation of Quistis' classy accents, and followed it with a derisive snort.  
  
"Zell, if you don't care we can just go home," Quistis snapped, standing abruptly from her seat and throwing her napkin onto the table. This was _ridiculous_. It was like telling Norg to stop being fat and lazy - simply _impossible_. All she was doing was making herself frustrated and Zell very upset. The only thing Quistis wanted at that moment was to head back to B-Garden, possibly with a stop at Colonel Coeurl's Custard on the way. And she'd dressed up for _this?_  
  
"Quisty..." Zell was looking up at her, half-pleading and half-angry. "C'mon, sit down! I didn't mean it. This - thing," he made a wild gesture to include the entire restaurant, almost scorching his hand on a candle, "the whole thing is nuts! I don't know nothin' about these _'rules'_ at all! You can't get mad at me for that! It's like... like... like you're testin' me on Junction Theory when I've only gotten to Basic Casting!"  
  
The classroom analogy gave Quistis pause. It was true: Zell didn't have any of the experience required for this sort of thing. Orphans usually didn't grow up knowing the complicated rules of the first date. (In fact, she wondered idly, when had _she_ become such an expert in the field?) As if that wasn't enough, there was the obvious case of Zell's rampant shyness around members of the opposite sex; no matter how boisterous he was around his other friends, his social gaffes around cute girls was the stuff of legend. Quistis shook her head and sat down, primly taking a sip of her water and reigning in her temper. She was an _Instructor_ here, and she was sick and tired of being told she wasn't any good at it. Zell's crack, though idly made, had hit her in a particularly sore spot. She sighed. _Failed Instructor. Poor leadership qualities_. The memories made her spine stiffen in resolve. She’d get Zell Dincht a date if it was the last thing she did for Garden. And – if Squall stayed angry - it just might be.  
  
"'m sorry, Quisty," Zell mumbled across the table, slumping.  
  
"No, I should apologize, Zell." Quistis set the glass down and looked him in the eye. "I keep forgetting that it's my job to teach you all of this - a job I'm doing quite poorly. I'll try to explain more, and not to expect you to read my mind." She offered him a tentative smile.  
  
Zell stared at her, anger forgotten as he focused on her mouth. Quistis smiling was a strange enough sight; the dusky wine of her lips contrasting against the sudden whiteness of her tiny, perfect teeth gave him pause. Was she actually wearing lipstick? For _him?_ For some reason, he found a goofy grin creeping across his face. Her smile began to falter, and he hastily covered his lapse, trying to catch her smile before it disappeared completely. "Wait! Uh, I mean, _sweet!_ Thanks, Quisty." Suddenly nervous, he took a large swig of his own water. "So what's next?"  
  
"We decide what we'd like for dinner," Quistis prompted cautiously. An unusually spacey look had descended over Zell's face when she spoke to him; she figured it was probably the shock of hearing her apologize to him _yet again_. It was a habit she was going to have to try to break before she gave the poor guy a mental breakdown. She cleared her throat carefully and tried to keep her voice even. "So that when the garcon comes back with our drinks, we can order our food."  
  
Zell grinned, flipping open his menu enthusiastically. "Finally!" His eyes quickly scanned down the page; Quistis watched as the grin slowly slipped away, to be replaced by a grimace. She opened her own menu delicately, her eyes still on Zell. She noticed him mouthing the words on the menu as his brow furrowed in concentration; thankfully he was doing it silently, rather than giving the rest of the restaurant his personally accented rendition of the menu.  
  
"What?" she finally asked.  
  
"There's like a bazillion things on here," Zell said slowly. "Am I... Am I s'posed to pick one to order for you, too?"  
  
Quistis smiled encouragingly. "That's the right idea, Zell," she said. "You don't have to choose the lady's meal, but it's a nice gesture to suggest something for her."  
  
"Oh." Zell's eyes ran down the page. "Uh, what do I suggest?"  
  
"Choose something expensive and special," Quistis recommended. "Something to let the girl know she can order anything on the menu she wants. Although," she added as an afterthought, "you should mention what you're planning on getting as well, so that she doesn't feel out of place ordering her entrée."  
  
"Bacon burgers," Zell stated decisively, turning the page in his menu. His brow creased.  
  
"Zell," Quistis said cautiously, "I don't think they have burgers here."  
  
"They don't have burgers here?" Zell exclaimed loudly. Quistis winced. She noticed another waiter eying them with silent condemnation as he passed by.  
  
"Zell," she hissed. "Quiet."  
  
"But, but - !" Zell protested loudly. "No burgers!" He scanned the menu again, this time with a hint of desperation. "Not even _fries!_ "  
  
Quistis bit her tongue, took deep breaths, and counted backwards from ten again, this time in old Centran. By the time she'd remembered the word for 'four' her teeth had unclenched enough for her to speak. "Even if they did have burgers, Zell, you should pick something a little more... classy."  
  
"But I _want_ a burger," Zell emphasized.  
  
"YOU might," Quistis pointed out. "But what if Piggy wants something a little... nicer? A little more... extravagant? It _is_ your first date, after all."  
  
Zell looked at her quizzically. "Piggy can have whatever she wants, Quisty," he said, shrugging. "Why does it matter what I get?"  
  
Quistis took another deep breath. "Zell," she said, slowly and pointedly, "you're in a fancy, expensive restaurant for a reason."  
  
Zell's eyes flicked to the price column on the menu and bulged almost comically as his face drained of color. "Quisty!" he choked. "This is like... it's... it's more than a goddamn _glove mod!_ "  
  
Quistis nodded knowingly. "Precisely. The girl may feel intimidated by the cost of the meal. That's why it's up to you to order something expensive. Then you let the girl know you want to buy her something expensive as well."  
  
"What if I DON'T want her to?" Zell asked with a clear note of panic.  
  
"Trust me, you do," Quistis snapped coldly, unable to help herself. The deep breaths weren't helping. "It's a romantic gesture, Zell," she said. "It tells the girl that money doesn't mean anything. That you're a generous person. That getting the girl whatever she wants is what makes you happy."  
  
Zell was still staring at his menu in obvious trepidation. "Gettin' that glove mod would make me happy," he muttered under his breath. "So I just tell her to get whatever she wants 'cause I'm rich?"  
  
Quistis gave up on the deep breathing and buried her face in her palm. Maybe she was a crap Instructor after all, because Zell just wasn't getting it. "Here's what you do," she began, but paused. She couldn't really explain it in her own head - how could she explain it to Zell? When faced with it, Quistis admitted it didn't make much sense. If Zell wanted to eat a burger with Piggy, he should be able to, right? Ordering expensive food was just a classy way of showing off; but from the other perspective, it would definitely be expected at a place like Felicia's. This was much more confusing than she'd thought, and she really had no good explanations.  
  
 _Why is dating so hard?_ Quistis thought for probably the ten millionth time in her life. Zell was still watching her as if she had all the answers. Her pride suddenly surfaced; she wouldn't, _couldn't_ admit she didn't know something.  
  
"Here's what you do," she repeated, closing her eyes in frustration. "You say, 'I'm going to get' and then you choose something fancy and expensive, like the calamari platter. And then you say, 'I hear the _stuff_ is really good,' where _stuff_ is something else fancy and expensive, like the scallops over angel hair. Then you say, 'Would you like to try that?' - and the girl will then know that you're ordering a very fancy meal, and she is welcome to do the same."  
  
Zell roughly cleared his throat; Quistis kept her eyes firmly closed, ignoring him. "Saying _'I want a bacon burger'_ will make your date feel obligated to order something in the same price range as your meal." Zell was strangely quiet; Quistis slowly opened one eye to investigate.  
  
Staniel was standing beside the table, looking down his nose at her with obvious disdain. A chilled glass of Chardonnay sat in front of her; she reached for it gratefully, flushing, and took a rather large sip. Perhaps that hadn't been Zell clearing his throat after all.  
  
"Your order, please?" the waiter sneered, a demeaning smirk crossing his face. "I believe the..." A twist of disgust crossed his face. "... _bacon burger_ is out of stock tonight, madam."  
  
Quistis bowed her head and accepted her fate with resignation. She was simply never going to eat at Felicia's on the Wharf again. Not that the idea irked her greatly, considering how rudely they had been treated up to that point. In fact, she was well on her way to considering the whole evening a complete failure, when something miraculous occurred.  
  
Zell took a deep breath and - much to her surprise - addressed the waiter, perfectly straight-faced. "I'm going to have the calamari platter. Quistis, get whatever you would like - maybe those scallops?" He even made an effort to enunciate each word clearly.  
  
Quistis gaped. It was like Zell had put on a manners suit or something. The incongruous behavior sounded definitely foreign on him; in fact it was downright disturbing, she admitted. He looked stony and rehearsed and... like every other single one of the dates she'd had here, forcing her through power of suggestion to eat the (albeit delicious) scallops, drink the (albeit delicious) white wine and make very boring conversation. She tried to shake herself out of the shock and quickly turned her attention back to her own menu.  
  
She'd been lusting after that calamari platter herself, but the sad look of resignation on Zell's face got to Quistis. She decided to take pity on him - and his pocketbook.  
  
"I'll have the grilled salmon," she said, smiling coldly up at the rude waiter and snapping her menu shut in front of her. "With rice."  
  
"Would you care for an appetizer?" the garcon asked lightly, sneering down at Zell.  
  
"Uh, yeah - yes," Zell said, stumbling only slightly. He quickly scanned the list of appetizers, looking for the most expensive one. With a sigh he bid goodbye to that Magic Stone upgrade he'd been looking forward to so much. "We'll take the shrimp and lobster dip."  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Squinty slipped through the back door of the restaurant, his palms sweating. Library Committee members weren't really the best at subterfuge missions. In fact, Library Committee members weren't really the best at any sort of mission. He was nervous - what if he got _caught?_ \- but the thought of Instructor Trepe out there, smiling happily at _Zell Dincht!_ gave him new determination.  
  
Sneaking into the kitchen, he grabbed the nearest apron, throwing it on over his SeeD uniform hastily. He was tying the back when a voice behind him barked gruffly, "Hey! Whaddareya doin'?"  
  
 _Damn_. Squinty turned around to face an exceptionally large chef, wearing a greasy, stain-covered apron and bearing a very, very large knife. In fact, he could have passed for a distant relation to the Tonberry King, particularly in the way he was brandishing the butcher's knife towards him. Squinty swallowed. _Think of Instructor Trepe_ , he told himself.  
  
"Maybe you can help me."  
  
The chef's eyes narrowed. "You don' look like you belong here, _boy_."  
  
The note of emphasis on the last word nearly made Squinty lose his nerve. Thinking quickly, he reached into his pocket for the only weapon he had. It was, however, the most effective weapon in the entire world, as Garden itself could attest. Smiling weakly, he pulled out a handful of credits - his latest SeeD salary. "Maybe you _can_ help me," he repeated, dropping the gold one-by-one onto the counter.  
  
Chef Tonberry looked at it and grunted suspiciously. "You tryin' to bribe me, kid?" he rumbled dangerously, nostrils flaring. Squinty winced and quickened the pace of the dropping coins. To his relief, the knife finally lowered and the chef nodded. "Mebbe I can," he replied slowly.  
  
"I need to know what order came from table forty-two," Squinty said casually, tapping one of the coins on a cutting board as he leaned against the counter. It was a move he had seen in the latest Estharian spy film series, one that had struck him as particularly suave. It probably would have had more effect if he hadn't donned the greasy, ruffled apron before attempting it, though. And Chef Tonberry didn’t really look like the kind of guy who appreciated _suave_.  
  
The tapping came to an abrupt stop as Chef Tonberry slammed the huge cleaver down on the cutting board, making the coins (and Squinty) jump with the force of the motion. He gave Squinty a yellow, toothy grin and waddled over to a nearby pegboard which held a series of receipts. "They gots a shrimp n' lobster dip, a calamari platter, and a salmon."  
  
Disbelief and righteous indignation overcame fear, and Squinty picked himself up off the counter and shook his head. _No scallops!_ What was Zell thinking?! "Which did the lady order?" he asked.  
  
The chef shrugged, fumbling the gold on the counter into his greasy pocket. "I dunno," he said.  
  
"Find out," Squinty ordered, narrowing his eyes and reaching into his pocket again. He was going to have a rough time at the Triple Triad tables next week, but it would be worth it. "I want you to find out -" he dropped a few coins onto the counter "- and make it _perfectly_ -" a few more coins tinkled down onto the cutting board "- and then make the _other_ meal with _this_." He dropped the rest of the handful onto the counter, revealing - a newspaper clipping, with one line highlighted.  
  


Zell Dincht's Famous Onion n' Garlic Adamantoise Mega Pancakes with Apple and Fish Chunks, Tofu-Bacon-Maple Syrup and a Honey-Mustard Cheese filling

  
  
"As close as you can," Squinty said, "only worse." The chef, still gawking at the small heap of money, nodded faintly in response. "As bad as possible," Squinty continued; the chef nodded again. "Spice it up with peppers. Lace it with curry. And..." He reached into his pocket again and brought out a small bottle with a skull and crossbones stamped onto it, flames jutting out of the tiny picture's eye sockets. He placed it on the counter carefully, and Chef Tonberry took a step backwards, for the first time in the exchange wearing a real expression of fear.  
  
"That what I think it is?" he said cautiously.  
  
Squinty smiled slowly and pushed the bottle across the countertop. "That it is, my friend. Hyne's Hot Sauce, _original recipe_." He gave the chef a knowing smirk. "Feel free to apply it liberally. Then make it _look good_ and _send it out_." With those last two orders, his final two gold pieces fell onto the counter.  
  
The chef, dazed, nodded and grabbed the bottle. He watched the young SeeD retreat with a look of newfound respect. It had always been said that Balamb Garden wasn't something to be messed with, and now he knew why.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Ah," Quistis said with a clear note of relief. "Here's our food. That was quick."  
  
Zell had been strangely quiet ever since they'd ordered. Quistis had attempted to pry him open - first with an idle question about Balamb, and next with a more pointed question about the latest Combat King which he'd utterly ignored. She'd resorted to drinking as much Chardonnay as she could and watching Zell play with his glass of root beer.  
  
Her face flushed from the wine, Quistis leaned forward and carefully selected one of the pita chips on the tray, delicately scooping up some of the lobster dip. "Zell," she asked cautiously, "don't you want some of this?"  
  
Zell sighed, and Quistis realized he looked part angry and part resigned. "Zell, what's wrong?"  
  
"This is stupid," Zell said, leaning forward and taking a huge chunk of lobster dip onto a piece of pita. "I don't even know if I wanna date _anybody_ anymore."  
  
Quistis looked at him, obviously surprised. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"All these rules." Zell made a wide gesture, including their table, half the restaurant, and part of the shoreline. "All these dumb, polite, stupid expectations. What the hell's the point in datin' somebody if you're just gonna have to act like a freakin' statue? Shouldn't you be able to just, y'know, be yourself?"  
  
"Zell," Quistis sighed, "some girls expect certain behavior, and -"  
  
"How do you do it, Quisty?" Zell picked up another pita chip and stabbed at the dip viciously, causing some of it to violently splatter onto the formerly-pristine white tablecloth. "How'd you make it through so many dates like this? Don't it get boring?" He looked up hastily, a growing look of horror on his face. "Or do you actually, y'know, LIKE this kinda stuff?"  
  
"Well, everybody likes to eat fancy meals," Quistis joked, trying to get Zell to smile. It didn't work. "Zell, I..." Quistis trailed off.  
  
"I mean," Zell said, barreling on, "I like you an' all, Quisty, but... uhh... honest? This is the most bored I've ever been in my whole life, except maybe in Instructor Devan's Combat History class."  
  
"Well," Quistis replied, trying to rationalize that comment without being insulted, "I assume you and Piggy will have a lot more to talk about than you and I do."  
  
"I got plenty to talk to you about!" Zell bounced in his seat. "I just feel so... so frickin' preppy here, or somethin'. It's like everybody's waitin' for me to make one wrong move - even you."  
  
Quistis shook her head. She really didn't know what to say. In truth, while she did like eating fancy seafood, and she did occasionally enjoy dressing up... out of all those dates she'd been on, none had felt _special_. They'd all been eager young gentlemen looking to impress; they'd all been pretending to be perfect - or what _they_ thought _she_ thought was perfect.  
  
In fact, Quistis realized sadly, the person she was really thinking of was herself: she'd spent her entire career trying to meet and exceed so many people's expectations: Cid's, Squall's, Garden's, her own. She was the queen of following proper rules which made no sense. She didn't even call it her _life_ \- it was her _career_.  
  
Zell wasn't willing to pretend, even for Piggy. Somehow, this impressed Quistis. On a broader level, it made her envious and even slightly depressed. Thankfully, before she was embarrassed into admitting it, Staniel approached with their meals.  
  
"Calamari platter, _sir_ ," he said politely, setting the plate in front of Zell; "Salmon," he offered brusquely, slamming Quistis' order in front of her with much less delicacy. "Anything else for you two?"  
  
"No, thank you," Quistis replied, eyeing Zell's plate. She'd been _dying_ for that calamari herself. It looked as if it had been loaded up with a plethora of tasty-looking spices and a really interesting looking sauce - it was a lot fancier than she'd thought it would be. She glanced at her own plate: perfectly-cooked, delicious, _boring_ salmon stared back up at her. Hadn't she just decided she needed to stop trying to fill people's expectations?  
  
Zell waited until the waiter had left before letting down his poker face and eying his plate suspiciously, prodding at one of the morsels with his fork. He lifted it up to the candlelight, squinting, and then dropped it suddenly with a yell. "Holy shit! It has _tentacles_ , Quisty!" Zell groaned, grimacing. "I can't eat this stuff! I only ordered it 'cause you said it was fancy!"  
  
Sensing her opportunity, Quistis pounced. "I'll trade you!" she exclaimed. She noticed Zell eying her warily. "What? I have a perfectly good salmon here," she said snippily. "You can't possibly tell me you hate fish, Zell. You were raised in a fishing town, for Hyne's sake!"  
  
"Naw, salmon's fine," Zell answered, still eyeing his plate cautiously, looking for signs of movement. "It's just..."  
  
"Zell. I'm not just trying to make you feel better. I love calamari," she reassured him quickly, recognizing the hesitation on his face. In a way, she found it almost sweet; he thought he was trying to look out for her despite his obvious disgust with his meal.  
  
"Oh, hey. Well in that case," he said acquiesced, perhaps a little too quickly. Considering that she had been giving him a hard time for the entire evening, Quistis let it slide. With a little careful maneuvering, they had soon switched plates.  
  
Zell regarded the safe, familiar salmon with a sigh of relief. Picking up his fork, he dug into it with gusto. The rich, buttery flavor exploded across his tongue; this was _way_ better than hot dogs! Zell's eyes widened and he began to shovel more into his mouth, grudgingly admitting that maybe there _was_ something about these types of expensive restaurants that kept people coming back despite the stupid rules. A choking sound stopped him, and guiltily Zell swallowed and gulped down a swig of his root beer. He looked up at Quistis, fully expecting her to begin to lecture him on the speed of his eating, or quite possibly the fork he had chosen to eat with.  
  
Instead, he saw Quistis turning pale as her mouth opened and shut silently.  
  
"Shit!" Zell yelled, wiping his mouth hastily with the napkin. "Was I supposed to wait? Did I eat too fast?" Then, to his horror, tears began to leak out of her eyes. Fuck-fuck- _FUCK_ , Zell thought to himself, mind racing. Things had finally been going well, and suddenly he had made Quistis _cry_. Nobody made Quistis cry (and lived to tell about it). "Sorry, Quisty! Aww, c'mon, don't cry, I'll try harder!"  
  
Quistis shook her head wildly, her breaths starting to come out in short, rasping gasps as she grabbed at her throat. Zell furrowed his brows; maybe it wasn't _him_ she was mad at after all. "Quisty?"  
  
" _... haaaaa..._ " she wheezed, her face turning an alarming shade of red as she fumbled for her water glass, knocking it over. Without hesitating, she leapt up from her seat and made a grab for his glass, knocking his root beer messily across the table as she chugged down the water.  
  
"The hell?" Zell yelled, leaping up from his chair. Whatever Quistis was doing, he was pretty sure it didn't fall under the golden rules of fine dining. "Quistis! What's wrong?"  
  
"... squid," she wheezed, finally grabbing her glass of wine in desperation and downing that, too.  
  
Leaning over, Zell eyed the mass of still-bubbling tentacles on Quistis' plate curiously. He ducked closer and took a sniff... and instantly leapt back, eyes watering. "Holy shit! I'd know that smell anywhere! That's Hyne's Hot Sauce!"  
  
Quistis looked horrified at the revelation. "... that?" she managed to choke out, gesturing wildly at her throat. "Al-allergic!" Looking panicked - and, honestly, terrified - Quistis grabbed onto Zell's arm and dragged him towards the door, stumbling and coughing the entire way.  
  
As they burst into the restaurant proper, the many patrons of the now-filled restaurant turned to look at them in surprise. They were quite a sight - Quistis in her evening finery, coughing and choking as the tears streamed down her eyes, her fair skin flushed and rapidly developing a bright-red rash; Zell, trying to support her, in his ripped shorts and sneakers. Staniel ran up to them, visibly flustered.  
  
"Sir! Madam! Return to your table immediately!" Staniel hissed furiously.  
  
"Sod off," Zell ground out, trying to elbow past him as Quistis made another loud, wet gagging noise behind him. Quite a few of the diners did turn pale at that and got up to leave themselves.  
  
The waiter, however, had different plans, firmly grabbing onto Zell's forearm and trying to maneuver him back towards the balcony. "Sir, I really must insist!"  
  
Zell looked down at the arm on his vest, and then with a narrow glare, up at the waiter. "Thanks," he said, a fierce grin beginning to break across his face. "I've been waitin' for an excuse to do this all night." The waiter only had a brief opportunity to look confused before Zell's fist connected to his cheek with a resounding crack. A quick kick and a deft spin had the man hurtling over his shoulder, reeling past Quistis and disappearing onto the balcony in a crumpled heap. A few screams and loud clatters rose from the other diners at the commotion. Zell turned to grab Quistis and resumed their path towards the exit, before the maitre d'hotel appeared in front of them, his face flushed and red.  
  
"What is the meaning of this, you- you- hooligan?" he sputtered, pointing a finger at Zell.  
  
"First of all, I ain't no hooligan, I'm Zell Dincht," he said loudly. A hushed murmur swept through the restaurant; star power did count for something after all. He dragged Quistis to his side and pushed her in front of the tiny man, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "Second of all, you bastards just tried to poison my date with that shit you pass off for cookin'! Just look at her!" As if on cue, Quistis made another retching sound and the little man turned a slight shade of green. Zell's angry voice rose into a loud shout which echoed around the now-silent room. "And last of all, I ain't got no clue why anyone would spend so much goddamn money in a place that's still usin' _Hyne's Hot Sauce_ as a secret ingredient!" With that, he bundled Quistis into his arms and shoved his way out of the restaurant, leaving a flabbergasted attendant in his wake.  
  
The door slammed shut behind them, and a moment of silence swept through the restaurant. The large chef in the kitchen began to slowly back away, hoping to escape before the maitre d'hotel looked his way; he bumped into the dessert tray in his haste, and there was another large crash as delicately decorated cake bits went flying. Heads swiveled towards the noise. Then there was a loud rustle of paper as several wallets came up simultaneously at the other tables.  
  
"Check please!"


	7. In Which Many Headaches Are Created

Zell Dincht wasn't always the type of person the average SeeD would want on their side in an emergency. Zell was known to have a short fuse, a raging temper and a foul mouth. He also wasn't much of a thinker, preferring to let his fists make most of his decisions; in fact, he'd thrown himself head-first into many fights - and lost - when a simple nod (or a Final Heaven) would've been much more effective. "Performs well under pressure" hadn't been checked on his review cards by any of his (many) Instructors. However, in the right circumstances Zell would've proved them all wrong. There was one thing Zell Dincht could be counted on for in a fight, and that was helping a friend in need.  
  
He'd bundled Quistis up in his arms, rearranged all his Junctions for speed (Quistis wasn't exactly heavy) and taken off for Balamb Garden, gleaming in the distance. The sun had set over Balamb during their dinner, leaving the grounds around the Garden partially lit with twilight. Diablos churned out the Enc-None field, fueled by Zell’s anger, and none of the few roaming monsters Zell spotted even glanced in his direction.   
  
Quistis was making little gurgling sounds in his arms, and the last time Zell had checked she'd been - well, _bubbling_ was the only way he could think to put it: _bubbling from the mouth_. A huge, fierce wave of pity came over him as he glanced down at Quistis again. She'd started out frantically protesting his initial reaction, but as the red blotchy patch on her face had spread down her neck and across her collarbones, she'd eventually given up even trying to speak. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting gently against his shoulder. The fact that Quistis would let him see her this weak - no matter what the cause - made Zell feel warm and protective towards her. He'd get her back to normal, no matter what; she'd be scolding him again in no time.  
  
The flash of the front gate caught his eye, and Zell realized suddenly that he'd left the van in Balamb. "Shit," he said aloud, pausing momentarily in his tracks. He was _such_ an idiot. He'd high-tailed it out of Felicia's so fast he hadn't even remembered they _had_ a van. "Dammit!"   
  
Quistis shifted slightly, and his eyes narrowed in determination. He'd heal her first, and then he'd walk all the way back to Balamb if that's what it took. There was an easier way back into Garden for trespassers who knew where to look...  
  
He snuck around to the back and gently set Quistis in the grass, jumping up onto an almost-hidden ledge and fumbling around for the switch. An engine whirred into life, and the repair door on one of the ventilation shafts popped open. Zell pumped a fist into the air in victory, and then leapt back to the ground. Quistis, now completely red-faced and swollen, had gotten shakily to her feet; she’d regained her bearings, at least a little, and had roughly pulled her hair back away from her blotchy face in an attempt to regain her poise. Her eyes were fiercely bright with embarrassment and injured pride, and Zell decided that picking her back up again might be hazardous to _his_ health. Instead, he gestured for her to head into the ventilation tunnel, closing the trapdoor behind them. Quistis followed, a little shakily. Zell could hear her wheezing breath clearly in the empty tunnel, which made him want to hurry – but he didn’t think Quistis would be able to keep up if he started sprinting.  
  
Quistis' throat was thick and clogged, but as she looked wildly around her, Zell could almost read the question on her face. "It's an old repair tunnel, prob'ly installed when they built that thing that makes Garden fly," he explained. "I found it one of the days I was checkin' out the engine."  
  
Quistis' face darkened slightly, and she made an attempt to choke something out around her swollen vocal chords. Zell grinned, leading her forward. "I know exactly what you're thinkin', Quisty," he teased her. "It's either _'Zell, you idiot, what are you doing sneaking out of Garden,'_ or it's _'Zell, you idiot, we have a security breach on our hands!'_ " A glance at her face, answered by a firm angry nod, made him chuckle out loud.  
  
"If you wanna know what I was doin' sneakin' out," Zell continued, pulling Quistis down a side path, "tough! That's none of yer damn business. An' second - what, you think I'm an idiot?" He shot her a grin. "I showed Selphie it, an' she set up a little security door with a password an' a camera that starts up if an alarm goes off. She an' Irvine use it when they wanna go out."  
  
Quistis' eyes were wide; whether she was alarmed, impressed, or a little bit of both, Zell couldn't tell. "Here, see?" They'd come to the door, and Zell deftly entered a four-digit code. "It's our little secret, Quisty," he said proudly as the door unlocked itself with a thud. He pushed it open, led Quistis through, and then locked it behind him. His face wrinkled up for a second, but then he tugged at something on the floor to reveal another trapdoor, this time with a rope ladder.  
  
"It leads down into the Library," Zell explained eagerly, and Quistis' face lit up with surprise - and a hint of respect. She nodded in understanding. There was an Esuna draw point in the Library. Zell had visited it plenty of times; he figured a couple rounds of Esuna would fix up Quisty's face enough that she'd be able to talk.  
  
Zell popped the ventilation ceiling tile, and they climbed down the rope ladder into the Library. Quistis headed immediately towards the draw point, while Zell scrambled onto a nearby chair and stuffed the ladder back into the ceiling. When he came down, Quistis was standing next to the draw point, giving him a panicked look.  
  
"What?" He looked her over: she was still red and puffy.  
  
Quistis gestured angrily towards her throat, attempting to choke something out. Failing to make herself understood, she stalked over to a nearby desk and grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil. _I CAN'T CAST_ , she wrote in angry capital letters, underlining it once and then gesturing towards her throat again.  
  
"Oh," Zell said, with a grin. "Lemme do it." But as he focused on the draw point, he realized it was currently empty - Quistis must have taken all the Esunas herself, not realizing she wouldn't be able to use them.  
  
She was scribbling again, and she held the pad up with an extremely determined look on her face. _You'll have to draw them from me_ , the paper read.  
  
"Woah," Zell said out loud. Drawing from another person was a particularly... _intimate_ experience. When it happened in the heat of battle, it was so fast and intense that it could be mostly ignored - and other things were usually going on. But sometimes... well, sometimes you pulled out thoughts, or memories, along with the spells. It was probably some aspect of the GF itself, and its connection to memories as a whole. Zell certainly didn’t understand it, but he knew one thing: he was probably bad at it.  
  
Quistis' brows lowered slightly (as much as they could) and she pinned Zell with a look, mostly saying _If I catch you mucking about in my head, you're dead meat_. She held out an arm wordlessly, and Zell rested his fingers on it and dove in.  
  
He felt around a little wildly until he found the Esuna spells, freshly Drawn and not yet Junctioned; nervously, he began tugging at them. A few came loose and slid down his arm and into his own mind - _a flash of a seashore, and a blond girl building a sandcastle_ \- where Diablo fastened them down. Zell swallowed. He'd never really liked using magic anyway. Tentatively he pulled again - _she was dancing, young and wearing a new SeeD uniform, dancing around a dorm room while Xu laughed in the background; it was only the two of them_ \- and a few more spells slid loose. He shook his head, trying to clear his own mind and focus - _Quistis, angrily tucking a piece of paper into a drawer and wiping her eyes_ \- and with a sudden rush of panic, he grabbed a mental handful of the spells and pulled.  
  
Quistis wrenched her arm away. Zell, panting, managed to remember the point of the whole exercise: he clenched a fist and gestured, and the rain of Esuna trickled down over Quistis' face.  
  
"Sorry Quisty," he said apologetically, waiting for the flashes of the magic to recede so he could cast the next one. "I'm no good at magic, you know that."  
  
Quistis merely sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as the second spell broke over her head. The redness on her face seemed to be lessening. She collapsed into a nearby chair, her breathing resuming something close to normal.  
  
Zell paused, and then cast another one, trying to aim it particularly for her neck. As he waited, he happened to glance down at the desk - Squinty's desk, he realized suddenly - and froze.  
  
Sitting in the garbage can next to the desk was a torn cardboard box. The front of the box was an open oval, decorated with bright red flames. The top was stamped with a torn but familiar skull and crossbones, and the space above the front opening read in a familiar font: _Hyne's Hot Sauce: Original Recipe. Handle with Gloves!_  
  
"You little bitch," Zell hissed, not even thinking.   
  
Quistis gave a surprised squeak from behind him. "Oh - no, not you, Quisty!" Zell exclaimed, turning around and firing off another Esuna, effectively silencing her half-formed sputter as the spell literally hit her in the forehead. When the dazed shock of being accosted with magic faded and she was able to focus her eyes once more, he gestured for her to come closer. "Check this out!" He reached into the trash can - Quistis let out another squeak, this time indignant - and waved the empty packaging at her. "Look what I found," he declared, tossing it to her. "Guess our pal Squinty's been up to somethin'!"  
  
Quistis' face, which had been rapidly approaching its normal color, instantly flared back to red. She held the package delicately in front of her between her thumb and forefinger, an obvious look of distaste on her face. "Th - that bitch is right," she choked out.  
  
"Hey, you can talk!" Zell exclaimed.  
  
Quistis blinked, having surprised herself, but she immediately closed her eyes and choked out a magic spell; more twinkling Esuna filled the room. Once the air had cleared, she very carefully set the box down on the table, eyeing it as if it were a dangerous creature about to pounce.  
  
"Well, I sure as hell ain't gonna stand for this," Zell proclaimed, standing up. "There's no way Squinty's gonna poison my date and get away with it!"  
  
"H-he couldn't have known about m-my allergy," Quistis pointed out, her normally smooth voice rough and swollen.   
  
"Don't matter," Zell said flippantly. "Hyne's Hot Sauce is bad enough even without the allergy."  
  
"H-he didn't put it on _my_ meal," Quistis rasped. She was grating the words out at this point; frustrated beyond belief, she cast Double on herself, and then quickly spat out two Esunas in quick succession.  
  
"Why're you defendin' him, Quisty?" Zell turned on her. "He could've killed you!"  
  
Quistis paused, muttering again; another Esuna broke over her head. When the lights faded her swollen throat was almost back to normal, and there was a twinkle in her eyes Zell didn't exactly like. "That's - good point," she ground out. She cast another Double-Esuna, the gleam in her eyes deepening. "We need to teach him a lesson." The dark tone to her voice brokered no doubt as to the sort of 'instruction' she was planning on meting out.  
  
"That's right!" Zell punched a fist into his palm, but then paused. "What do you mean, _we?_ "   
  
"I mean we're going to take that sniveling, cowardly, myopic little _shit_ to school," Quistis swore venomously, and Zell took a step backwards. Quistis swearing was already frightening enough; Quistis swearing revenge was a thing of beauty. Terrible, terrible beauty, the kind that most men didn't live to tell others about. Zell recognized this fact very clearly and made no attempt to draw any attention to himself as Quistis narrowed her eyes and continued to prove the true depth and breadth of her rather impressive vocabulary. In fact, she was beginning to sound a lot more like a cultured version of Selphie on a bad day rather than herself. Zell paused with surprise and then (very carefully) leaned in a little closer, curious despite his concern for his own safety.  
  
Even from a distance, Quistis' eyes were an eerie shade of black; her pupils were surprisingly dilated. Belatedly Zell recognized the initial symptoms of AMAS - Advanced Magical Absorption Syndrome, better known to Garden students as the infamous "magic high". AMAS was, in fact, a highly illegal state to be in, except for cases of life-or-death magical treatment. Zell himself had only seen it once, when those magic stoners had tried to steal his T-Board and…  
  
Zell blinked, surprised. Quistis' allergy had to be pretty darn bad if it had taken that many Esunas, really. Though, he thought with a slight twinge of guilt, the one he smacked her with between the eyes most likely helped things along a little faster than usual. It was probably lucky that she'd had a few already; if Quistis ever suspected Zell to be responsible for getting her stoned, AMAS or not, he'd be more than just a dead man. They wouldn't even find _smears_.  
  
"Quisty?" he asked tentatively, as her gaze was mildly unfocused. "You okay?"  
  
Quistis nodded vaguely. "Yeah," she said, her face darkening into a terrifying glare which wouldn't have been out of place on Ultimecia. "Just plotting." Her tone of voice clearly indicated her irritation at his interruption.  
  
"Hang on there," Zell said nervously - this Quistis was scaring him. "Maybe you should..." He trailed off as Quistis' black-eyed gaze slid over to him and narrowed dangerously. "... sit right there," he hastily amended, "and, uh, yeah. I'm just gonna call Felicia's and see what really happened."  
  
"Felicia? Is that the name of his accomplice?" he heard her mutter softly as she all but melted into her seat. Quistis somehow managed to make the hard, spindly wooden chairs in the library look comfortable. Appealing, even, by the way she was carelessly draping herself over it, one dainty leg hanging over the armrest as her head lolled backwards, her eyes half-closed...   
  
Zell caught himself staring and swallowed thickly before hastily turning around and fumbling for the phone behind the desk. He managed to knock over quite a few paperweights, books and various desk ornaments before finally feeling the welcome weight of the receiver against his palm. The noise had attracted Quistis' attention, however, and the hackles on the back of his neck rose as he felt her stare boring into him. He valiantly tried to ignore it and wiped some sweat from his brow as he dialed.  
  
"Yeah. Operator? Get me Felicia's on the Wharf. It's urgent." He snuck a glance over his shoulder and saw that Quistis was watching him intently. Quickly he whirled back around and gripped the phone so tightly he was sure the handle would crack. Much to his relief, a familiar-sounding voice filtered over the headset.  
  
"Felicia's on the Wharf," came the slightly snotty greeting. "Would you like to make a reservation?"  
  
"Hell no!" Zell answered reflexively, and the sudden inhale of breath on the other end indicated that he had been recognized.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Dincht!" The voice was now decidedly less haughty, and in fact laced with a very real twinge of fear. "About that most unfortunate incident this evening..."  
  
"Cut the crap," Zell bellowed into the phone, his ire returning full force. "I ain't gonna eat in your hole anymore, but you can keep me from talkin' to the papers if you do one thing."  
  
There was a minute silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice returned again, no longer groveling, but still cautious. "What are your terms?"  
  
"I wanna talk to the cook who made our food tonight," Zell answered firmly.  
  
"But..."  
  
"Balamb Weekly," Zell replied curtly.  
  
"Right away, sir." There was a rustle at the other end of the line, and a few muted grunts. Then a deeper, gruffer voice crackled over the line.  
  
"Yeah? What'cha want?"   
  
Zell frowned into the phone, even though the other man couldn't see him. "You the bastard who put Hot Sauce in my date's dish?"  
  
"Uh, 'bout that," the chef grumbled reluctantly. "It was the Balamb Garden. It was that SeeD, sir. Thought it was an official mission, yeah? Hadn't seen that it was, uh, you, Mister Dincht, sir. Guy paid me well enough." A beat of silence, and then, cautiously: "He ain't a spy, eh? Them credits looked like good Garden money..."  
  
Zell winced and cursed under his breath. "Was it a little guy? Scrawny bastard, squints a lot?" The grunt on the other end of the line was all the confirmation he needed; Zell turned and met Quistis' eyes, giving her a brief nod. "Naw, wasn't a spy. Say, put your boss back on, will ya?"  
  
Quistis raised one delicate eyebrow in confusion, but Zell ignored her.  
  
"Yes?" the snotty voice was back, and Zell scowled into the phone.  
  
"Listen up, you cretin," he snarled, holding the receiver out for emphasis. "I saw the prices in your menu! If you're chargin' us that much for a stinkin' piece of fish, you better pay your employees more! If they still can be bribed by a damn student a month from now, I really WILL go to the papers with this. Are we clear?"  
  
"You... you're going to test us?" came the quavering reply.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know," Zell sneered. "Thank your chef for me. Oh, and I hope you choke on your own sauce!" he added viciously, slamming the phone back into its cradle before he could hear the manager's reply.  
  
"Wow," Quistis said, moving to stand up. Zell watched the descent of her shapely leg from the armrest with a slight pang of regret and then kicked himself while glancing away. This was _Quistis_ , for Hyne's sake! Stuck up, totally repressed, Ice Princess Quistis. Other students actually preferred to call her the Ice _Queen_ , but Zell didn't understand why. Queens always made Zell think of older, slightly flabby women with age-spotted skin who stuffed themselves into too-tight dresses - that was all the Card Queen's fault, really - and Quistis was much too young and pretty to share that unfortunate label. No, she was definitely _princess_ material in Zell's mind - he shook himself out of his reverie as Quistis' scrutiny became slightly suspicious. _Oh boy_ , Zell gulped to himself. It didn't matter what he called her if she found out what he was thinking - she'd be _Quistis the Executioner_ in short notice.   
  
Somehow, he found his voice. "Wow?" Zell croaked, trying to ignore the way she was leaning into the counter. He was really starting to regret not putting that bib on her earlier.  
  
"I really thought you'd blow up at that chef, not the manager," Quistis admitted, leaning her chin into a palm as she carelessly ran her fingers through her hair, fumbling for the clip.  
  
 _Leave the hair, leave the hair_ , Zell was chanting to himself silently as his eyes were glued to the motions of her fingers. _Just leave the - damn!_ Some part of his brain that was still managing to function on a slightly higher level silently thanked Hyne that Quistis didn't seem to notice his flushed face or hyperventilation as her hair came tumbling loosely out of its strict constraint.  
  
Oblivious to Zell's plight, Quistis yawned slightly and continued speaking. "Very discreet of you. And noble, I suppose. Though I wouldn't have let the chef off that easily." Zell remained unusually silent, watching her with a glazed expression and occasionally nodding his head in agreement. Her hair was slightly kinked where she’d fastened it up with the clip, which was giving it a nice sort of curly bounce around her face...  
  
Quistis continued chattering, thoughtfully. "Really, even if he was in an unfortunate situation, one should never underestimate the importance of personal responsibility..." she trailed off, her relaxed expression souring.  
  
Zell jerked away as soon as Quistis' features dropped into a scowl; he felt himself flush as he belatedly realized he had been leaning in towards her. "U-uh, Quistis, I can explain," he began hastily, assuming that she had noticed the motion. He silently breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that she wasn't scowling at him, but rather the desk of their culprit.  
  
"No, don't try to defend him, Zell. Squinty has gone too far this time. I'm going to have to deal with him personally." The look on her face doubled Zell's resolve to never, ever get on Quistis' bad side. Her relaxed demeanor and dark eyes were clear signs, however, that the AMAS was taking over, and he realized nothing good would come of staying anywhere but in bed. Then he flushed bright red again at the thought and hastily added _'ALONE!'_ to it.  
  
"Uh, Quisty, maybe we should both get some rest. It's, uh, been a long day," he managed to stutter uneasily, guiding a much-too-complacent Quistis towards the doors.  
  
"But we need to formulate our revenge," Quistis protested half-heartedly, leaning into his side. Her words were starting to slur together slightly, and after briefly checking to ensure that the halls were clear, Zell stepped up the pace towards the dormitories. Personally, he didn't think that Quistis would be up for much more than formulating a hangover the next morning. He wondered in Quistis had ever even gotten drunk before, whether on magic or alcohol; considering her nature as a control freak, he seriously doubted it. In a bout of sympathy, he squeezed her elbow as the approached the dormitory corridor.   
  
"Hey, Quisty, I think maybe you'd better learn some of my Dincht-approved hangover solutions," he suggested cautiously. "I think you're gonna need 'em."  
  
"Hmm?" Quistis giggled, and Zell grimaced. Quistis didn't _giggle_. "I don't think I need them, I only drank one glass of wine tonight..." Seeing the look on Zell's face, Quistis sighed theatrically and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, all right. So?"  
  
"Well, when I got a splittin' headache, I usually take my T-board an' ..." He trailed off as the smile dropped from Quistis' face and was rapidly replaced by a much more familiar frosty glare. "... on second thought, never mind," he finished lamely.  
  
And then it happened - maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe she was more off her rocker than he realized - but Quistis' expression, for lack of a better word, softened, and she placed her hand on his chest. His heart thumped erratically under her gentle touch, and his surroundings seemed to fade away as her features came into sharp focus before him.  
  
"Thank you, Zell," Quistis said quietly, and there was no sarcasm, no mockery, no regret in her voice. Her eyes shone, and even though he blinked to be doubly sure, it was still there when he opened his eyes the second time - a small, but genuine smile graced her lips. He wanted to tell her it was nothing, but his throat seemed to have dried out completely, which was a good thing because he was also fairly certain his entire vocabulary had taken a temporary vacation as well.  
  
"I don't mean just for saving me," she added as an afterthought, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. "I really had fun tonight. Well... maybe _fun_ isn't the right word to describe being humiliated in front of the upper echelons of Balamb society." Then she laughed, quietly, and it was a soft, musical sound.   
  
He had never heard her laugh before, Zell realized then.  
  
"It was... educational," she amended, the tiny smile still playing across her lips. Seeing Zell's shocked expression, Quistis did have the grace to blush and finally remove her hand. "Oh," she mumbled, finally directing her gaze away from him and holding a hand to her forehead. "Oh, dear, I... guess I'm on a bit of an Esuna high. Sorry..." She tittered again and turned to face him. "I'll probably regret letting you see me like this in the morning, won't I?"  
  
Zell swallowed and managed to shake his head. "Get some rest, Quisty," he mumbled, blushing as he carefully turned her around and pushed her in the direction of the dorms. He prayed fervently that she'd get the hint and start walking. He wouldn't be held responsible for what might happen if she didn't. He tried to remind himself that she was drunk, and wondered why he felt so disappointed when she finally took his advice and disappeared into the dark hallway.  
  
Even after he was sure that she had returned safely to her room, Zell stood in the hallway for several long minutes, staring after her and wondering what exactly in the hell was going on. Did he have AMAS? Could it be transmitted by casting? Maybe he unhinged something in his mind when he drew those Esunas?  
  
Unbidden, an image of her laughing, spinning with her arms outspread as she showed off her new uniform sprung before him, and with a groan, he beat his head against the large placard in the hallway. Then, wearily, he turned and began to trudge not in the direction of the his own dorm, but the Training Center. Zell Dincht might not have been the brightest of students in Balamb Garden, but he was quick enough to realized one basic truth - there would be no sleep for him tonight.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"BORED."  
  
Seifer continued to stare upward at the clouds above his head, deliberately not moving. Inwardly he winced; Fujin had been like this for days after their last prank, and Seifer was a tiny bit worried at her new-found drive for mischief. Perhaps if he ignored her, she'd go away; that one cloud kind of looked like a mushroom, and -  
  
"BORED," Fujin repeated stubbornly, and kicked him for good measure.   
  
The clouds lost their appeal. Seifer stood up, wincing, and glared at her. "Well, then, find something to do," he snapped, rubbing his leg. Fujin wore some heavy boots.  
  
"HUNGRY," she replied, smirking at his obvious pain.  
  
Seifer rolled his eyes. "Well, look, Raijin'll be back soon, and -" A strange sound from the bushes gave him pause. Something was rustling back there, rustling and rumbling. Had those SeeDs actually found their hideaway? Seifer tensed up, reaching slowly behind him to pull Hyperion out if -  
  
A bizarre toot sounded from the woods seconds before a rickety old van rumbled into the small clearing around their house. Seifer recognized the van immediately; it was one of the old issue BG vehicles, with a faded Balamb Garden logo painted down the side. He drew Hyperion haughtily; it figured that Miss Failed Instructor and her Chicken Wuss boyfriend would bring an entire van of cadets to take them down.  
  
Raijin stuck his head out the window, obviously confused. "Hey, it's me, ya know?"   
  
Seifer let the tip of Hyperion droop. "It would've been nice to let us know you weren't a van full of SeeDs," he spat angrily.  
  
"HONKED," Fujin pointed out. She pulled open the sliding door to the back of the van, eyeing the empty chamber speculatively. "NICE," she said neutrally, but Seifer could already see the plots hatching in her brain and immediately multiplying.  
  
"Be good, Fu," Seifer warned, hopping into the front seat. He glanced over the console and nodded at Raijin's hot-wiring job. "Well, this isn't too bad," he said finally. "Whichever retard left it here is going to get in a lot of trouble."  
  
"NICE," Fujin repeated with a wicked curve to her smile. She was now eyeing the empty space in the back.  
  
Seifer sighed. "I've created a monster," he muttered under his breath.  
  
Raijin shook his head. "I don't think it was all you, ya know," he pointed out, glancing over his shoulder.  
  
Fujin shot him an icy glare. "HUNGRY," she said pointedly, glancing around her at the empty van. She'd settled down in the back seat and was now staring at Raijin, licking her lips.  
  
"Ya, well," Raijin said nervously. "I didn't make it to the Balamb Burger - I found the van first, ya, and it took me a while to jump it. We can go now, okay?"  
  
Fujin nodded sternly. "SLURPEE," she demanded.  
  
"Okay," Raijin said, easing the van out of park. "Slurpee first, and then the drive-thru."  
  
It was a short drive to the nearby gas station - the same one they'd broken into before, now with new locks, a shiny new camera, and a very nervous-looking employee. Raijin agreed to stay with the idling van; Seifer and Fujin entered the store in search of sugar and smokes. Fujin made a bee-line for the machine in the back of the room, selecting the largest size cup immediately and then deliberating over choice of flavor.   
  
"What are you, Silly Strawberry or Goofy Grape?" Seifer snickered, watching her eye flick between the two. Fujin rounded on him, shifting her weight around to free her kicking foot, an irritated look on her face. "Hey, look, tabloids!" Seifer exclaimed hurriedly, backing away from the silver-haired menace.  
  
The cover of the tabloid caught his eye. A picture of Balamb's nicest restaurant, Felicia's on the Wharf, had been graced with the header _FELICIA'S CAUGHT USING HYNE'S HOT SAUCE TO SPICE UP BAD SERVICE!_ Beneath the glaring red letters were the words that had grabbed Seifer's attention: _Balamb's own famous Zell Dincht uncovers scam! Pg 22._ Intrigued, Seifer reached for the top copy.  
  
"Um, you can't read that unless you buy it," the store clerk offered nervously.  
  
"Oh, really," Seifer replied, giving the store clerk his scariest look.  
  
"Uh - um, I'm really sorry, but you can't," the clerk replied, backing away from the counter - and into the line of sight of the camera in the ceiling.  
  
Seifer scowled and stuck the magazine back into the holder. Fujin tramped up to the counter with her gigantic Slurpee and dropped the change on the counter, slurping happily.  
  
"GOOFY GRAPE," she said in reply to Seifer's look.  
  
Once back in the van, Seifer dug into his own pocket, counting gil. "I'm starving, Raijin," he said. "Can we hit the damn drive-thru now?"   
  
Raijin nodded, throwing Fujin a glance over his shoulder. "I didn't want her blood sugar to get low, ya know?"  
  
Seifer winced. The last time Fujin had been denied a sugar run, she'd deliberately slipped into a new Limit Break - a beautiful martial-arts spell she called Kick All Nearby Men In The Junk.   
  
They pulled up to the order window at Balamb Burger. The boy behind the window - a slightly chubby kid with a disgustingly cute face - took one look at the van and started grinning. "Hey, you guys are from SeeD!"  
  
"Uh..." Raijin glanced over at Seifer and then back at the kid. "Uh, yeah, that's right."  
  
"Sure thing," Seifer said, leaning over. "Right, we want... three cheeseburgers, two orders of fries and a vanilla milkshake."  
  
"Okay!" The boy excitedly punched the order into the computer. "Man, I love SeeD," he gushed.  
  
"Really," Seifer said, both curious and nauseated. "So, do you have any idea what happened down at Felicia's?"  
  
The boy's eyes lit up. "I sure do!" He leaned out the window. "Apparently Zell Dincht was on a _date_ there, and they served his date Hyne's Hot Sauce, and she, like, exploded or something! And Zell ran her all the way back to Garden!" The kid's eyes were literally shining, and Seifer had to make a conscious effort to not puke. "Zell's my hero."  
  
"That chickenhead is your hero?" Seifer asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Hey," the kid said, slightly insulted. "Zell's an awesome SeeD."  
  
"Sure thing, loser," Seifer replied, rolling his eyes. "Where's our food?"  
  
The boy stood up on his toes, glaring at all of them. "Zell Dincht's my brother, and you take that - chicken thing - take it back!"  
  
 _Brother?_ Seifer blinked and tried to imagine Zell in the boy's uniform, wearing the same stupid paper hat and serving drive-thru patrons their fries with a shit-eating grin. It was all too easy. He was laughing so hard as they pulled up to the second window that he didn't realize Fujin had opened the sliding back door until it was too late.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Quistis was brought violently into the world of the living by an ear-splitting shriek. Her blood pounded, singing in her ears as panic swept over her; _Garden was being attacked!_ Muscles tensed as she prepared to leap out of bed, her hand already reaching for her whip - before she collapsed against her sheets with a loud groan. A herd of Mesmerizes were stampeding across the back of her skull, her tongue felt like it was three sizes too large for her mouth and gone was the soft muted light of pre-dawn which usually greeted her upon waking. Instead, her eyes and ears were being assaulted by harsh, jagged and decidedly unforgiving shades of pain that were poorly masquerading as sound and light.  
  
Groping desperately, she knocked her glasses and a book carelessly off of her nightstand as her sluggish fingers cleared a path towards the offending alarm. One wide sweep with an outstretched palm managed to knock it aside; the clock hit the ground with one last pathetic beep and a satisfying crunch.  
  
"Oh, Hyne..." Quistis moaned, trying to couple the urge to drag herself under a very cold shower with the fact that her body had decided to mutinously rebel against even the thought of motion. Dimly, she realized she was suffering from a hangover. And not just any hangover, but the mother to end all hangovers. _Well_ , she thought with a glimmer of dark amusement, _Quistis Trepe never did anything halfway_. The urge to laugh only brought about new waves of pain, however, so she gave it up in favor of trying to piece together the events of the previous night.  
  
 _What on earth happened?_  
  
Giving up on the attempt to rise, Quistis let herself collapse against the pillow and concentrated on carefully sorting out and compartmentalizing her scattered thoughts. She remembered the trip to Balamb, the dinner at the restaurant, the unfortunate allergic reaction afterwards, and somehow making it to the library - but from there things started to go soft and hazy.  
  
With a growl and a wince, Quistis cleared her head and wrestled with her memory once again. This time she was able to pick out more distinct details from the grey fog clouding the previous evening. Zell, making a phone call. Zell, being especially lenient towards the chef of the restaurant. Zell, helping her from the chair, his hands warm and steady. The vague feeling of disappointment that overcame her when she realized that Zell wasn't going to usher her to her room.  
  
Quistis blinked. In her current state, she couldn't be entirely sure that the ceiling didn't blink back. Obviously something was wrong, though; she felt warm, almost feverish, and she was sure her cheeks were growing flushed. Maybe she was still having an allergic reaction; after all, Zell wasn't as skilled a caster as she was, and it had been his hand that had bathed her in the gentle, tickling warmth of Esunas for most of the evening...  
  
Quistis jerked suddenly, ignoring the unpleasant spike of pain that the sudden movement sent through her temples. _STOP THINKING ABOUT ZELL_ she told herself sternly, and instantly regretted it as the command echoed through her skull, bouncing off several walls before sloshing to rest messily in a puddle near her ears. The impromptu ping pong match inside of her head did have one desired effect - it killed the uncomfortable warmth that she had felt blooming across her cheeks and squashed any errant thoughts she might have had about a certain spiky-haired blonde, allowing her to focus on the essentials.  
  
"AMAS," she groaned as the rest of her memory slowly returned. Zell, grabbing at her unjunctioned Esunas clumsily; his fumbling mental touch was so uncharacteristically cautious and timid that it made her want to laugh out loud. _Essentials_ , she reprimanded herself. With the Moomba Light Show blaring against the back of her skull, she was hardly equipped to deal with what she was beginning to suspect was more than simple food poisoning. No, she needed to focus on the facts right now; she could deal with the details later, when she was armed with coffee and water and maybe a liberal dose of sanity as well. Assuming she would be able to convince her rebelling body parts to team up once again and walk her to the Infirmary some time this century, hopefully Dr. Kadowaki would take pity on her...  
  
"Focus," she repeated to herself. Zell, overdosing her with Esunas. Zell, reaching into the trashcan; her nose wrinkled at that. Of course, he was doing it to find proof...  
  
Quistis' breath left her in a quick whoosh as her confusion found a safe place to collate into cool, icy anger. Her eyes narrowed, and bloodshot though they may have been, there was no fuzziness this time to mar the intensity of her gaze. The ceiling might have actually sprouted a new crack from it.  
  
Martin DeBrye. SeeD cadet. Head of the Library Committee and dangerously near-sighted. Long-time card-carrying Trepie and owner of one now-empty bottle of Hyne's Hot Sauce. _Squinty_ , as she knew Zell liked to refer to him. The name seemed appropriate.  
  
 _Oh yes_ , Quistis thought to herself as a thin smile stretched over her lips. _He would pay._


	8. In Which Brunettes Definitely Have Less Fun

Squall eyed the phone nervously. This was the fourth call in the last fifteen minutes, and he'd just gotten into the office twenty minutes ago. If his voice-mail button started blinking any faster, it would probably catch on fire. It was not a good omen for the rest of his day.  
  
The phone stopped ringing, and the sudden silence that filled his office was a little alarming. Tentatively, Squall reached out one finger and pushed the button.  
  
 _"Commander Leonhart? This is Mayor Daggett. We've had another, ah, incident, and -"_  
  
Squall jammed his index finger onto the button and skipped to the next message.  
  
 _"Commander Leonhart, it's the Mayor again. Look, they've got one of your SeeD vans. Are you sure that Garden isn't -"_  
  
The finger jabbed fiercely at the button again, producing a short-lived squeal before the next message came through.  
  
 _"Commander Leonhart, Mayor Daggett here. Apparently they've got one of the Balamb citizens tied to the, uh, van, and they're -"_  
  
Squall's finger melted into a fist, which rammed itself into the voice-mail button with surprising force.  
  
 _"Leonhart. Where in the world is Balamb Garden? We need some cadets in here, now!"_  
  
The fist missed the answering machine by a few inches and slammed into the desk, scattering pens and a few trolls haphazardly across the ground. He glared at their chubby little bellies as they tumbled over each other and spilled onto the floor, their inane plastic grins mocking him. The ugly yellow-haired one labeled "Seifer" rolled to a stop at the foot of his chair. It looked different from the others; this was the one Zell had added to Rinoa's collection, purposefully buying one of the cheap imitation troll varieties out of spite. It was oddly appropriate, considering that its head was disproportionately larger to its body in a way that was definitely much more freakish than cute. And it wasn't as if the little toys weren't creepy enough in their original form; this miscreant fake Seifer troll managed to make the cutesy plastic grin molded onto its face appear almost sinister. Gritting his teeth, Squall picked up the toy and began to whack it against the desk. The satisfying _thwack!_ its head made each time it connected with the abused wooden surface was the primary reason that he didn't hear his freckled secretary approaching until she politely cleared her throat.  
  
"Sir," Sasha said cautiously.  
  
Squall's hand paused mid-descent, the mangled-but-still-grinning Seifer troll in his grasp. He coughed once and abruptly folded his hands together in the semblance of professionalism. The tell-tale tuft of wispy yellow hair peeking out from between his thumbs rather ruined the effect, but his secretary wasn't about to point that out to him.  
  
"I have a fax for you from Balamb, sir. It's from the Mayor's office, Priority Alpha," she told him nervously, carefully scooting the large manila envelope over the desk towards him.  
Squall eyed the folder impassively, his lips tightening almost imperceptibly. He wasn't moving, but the tuft of yellow between his hands was vibrating suspiciously. Sasha could almost imagine the panicked, muffled squeaks of the toy in the Commander's grasp. Finally, Squall's fingers slowly unclenched and released the hapless toy to reach for the folder. The rustle of paper was all that was heard as he drew the photos out of the envelope and studied them quietly. Then, carefully, he lowered the packet, the muscles in his jaw jumping slightly. A corner of a blurry photo could be seen from underneath the cover memo, which was composed of angry capitalized letters and a few too many exclamation points. Squall's hands began inching towards the Seifer doll once more as he smiled blandly at his uneasy secretary.  
  
"Was there anything else?"  
  
Sasha cleared her throat once more. "Umm, yes, sir," she said warily. "Your nine o'clock appointment, sir. SeeD Kinneas is here to see you." Actually, technically speaking there was no official appointment, just one smooth-talking cowboy waiting outside the office doors. His impromptu request for a meeting with the Commander, however, was looking like less and less of a bright idea with each passing twitch on Squall's face. _Well_ , Sasha thought to herself. _Better an A-ranked SeeD than me_. "I'll show him right in," she offered generously, beating a hasty retreat.  
  
"Squall!" Irvine's friendly drawl filled the office as he sauntered in past the retreating secretary. "How're you doin', buddy? You..." he trailed off as he noticed Squall's dark stare. "... don't look so good," he finished as his hand faltered mid-wave. _Crap_ , Irvine thought to himself. _Maybe he found out already._  
  
"Irvine," Squall replied dully, his fingers unconsciously pinching the neck of the troll doll as he glared. "What do you want?"  
  
 _Too late to back out now_ , Irvine thought to himself, taking a fortifying breath. "Well, see, it's about Seifer -"  
  
The head of the doll in Squall's grasp flew off with an audible _POP!_  
  
"... maybe now's not a good time," Irvine finished, dipping his hat briefly and doing a quick about-face.  
  
"Stop," Squall said, and because Irvine didn't want to find out if Squall could perform a Rough Divide with a mangled troll body instead of his gunblade, Irvine did. "What about Seifer?"  
  
Irvine felt the sweat bead on the back of his neck. There was no retreating now, however - at least not if he wanted to remain in Selphie's good graces. Well... Squall did seem to be particularly upset at Seifer at the moment; then again, Selphie would be more upset with him if she found out he was lying about Seifer's "surprise birthday party." And Selphie, unlike Squall, had not only an intimate knowledge of explosives but also the keys to his quarters. _Nope, no backing out now_ , Irvine thought grimly to himself.  
  
"See, Selphie and I had this little idea..." Well, maybe no backing out, but no going in without backup, either. Irvine sat down, trying to give his brain a chance to pull together an excuse. Squall cut him off before he could continue.  
  
"You mean a little _party_ ," he said bluntly. It was in all likelihood true. Selphie never approached Squall with an _'idea'_ unless it was about throwing a party of one sort or the other. It was a big part of the reason she got along so famously with Rinoa, and also why Squall had standing orders to redirect Selphie to Quistis' office first whenever she visited the Command Center. In his current mood, he was considering extending that blanket order to include Irvine, now, too. The cowboy was obviously whipped by his girlfriend, Squall thought to himself with an internal smirk, feeling amused for the first time that morning.  
  
Irvine balked. "Well, yeah, but -"  
  
"... a party for Seifer?" Squall suddenly put the pieces together and frowned at the picture they were trying to form. In his head, he tried again. His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Why?"  
  
Irvine rubbed the back of his neck uneasily and began to talk quickly. "Well, it's just that Selphie's got her heart set on this, see, and she already started plannin' out how to set up the Quad, and well, you know how she gets when she doesn't get her way, and I just thought that maybe you'd -"  
  
"Enough," Squall cut him off, lifting a hand and massaging his temples. Between the latest attack of the Balamb Bandits, Irvine's nervous monologue, and the fact that Rinoa had been giving him the cold shoulder for no reason he could discern for the past few days, his patience and renowned aplomb were threatening to buckle spectacularly. "I really don't want to know what you and Selphie have in store for Seifer. But before you two can _do anything_ to him, we have to apprehend him first." His brow furrowed as one of the mysteries fell into place. Selphie, parties, and Rinoa being upset... "This... party. Whatever Selphie is planning. Is that the reason Rinoa's been... upset lately?"  
  
"Well, uh, yeah, about that -" Irvine fumbled.  
  
Squall mentally rifled through his options quickly. He hated parties. On the other hand, Rinoa enjoyed parties almost as much as she detested Seifer. And Selphie loved parties just as much as she loved explosives. It all made sense, in a twisted sort of way. Though he would have never guessed that innocent little Selphie and his own sweet-tempered - well, she had been sweet-tempered until about two days ago - Rinoa were quite so bloodthirsty. If throwing a victory party to commemorate bringing a renowned war criminal like Seifer to justice was all it would take to get him back into Rinoa's good graces, who was he to stand in the way? "You've got your permission for this... 'victory celebration' ... on one condition."  
  
Irvine's hand fell away from his neck in surprise. He did manage to catch his jaw before it also dropped. "Condition?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Squall held out the envelope with the angry memo towards the cowboy. "I want you to bring Seifer in."  
  
Irvine managed to not instinctively reach for the envelope, although his hands gave a spasmic twitch towards it. Once he touched that envelope, there would be no way out of this. Thus he had to keep his fingers as far away from it as possible. "Oh, no way, buddy," Irvine said, shaking his head. He was already deep enough as it was - he didn't need some ridiculous interference with Seifer to bury himself. He sat on his hands in what he hoped was a subtle gesture.  
  
Squall didn't move. The envelope didn't move.  
  
"Look," Irvine began slowly. "I know I'm not supposed to know, but everybody's puttin' two and two together. He's the one behind the Balamb Bandits, isn't he. Quistis and Zell were the ones who went after Seifer the first time, right?" _C'mon, Kinneas_ , he told himself frantically. _You're supposed to be the smooth-talker here!_  
  
The envelope remained motionless; a small tic had appeared in the Commander's forehead and was pulsating at Irvine rapidly.  
  
"Okay," Irvine drawled, "so they screwed up." He paused. The names Quistis and Zell had provided his brain with a plan. Alright, it wasn't necessarily the best plan here, but trapping himself into throwing a _'birthday'_ party for Almasy - when that creep's actual birthday was, the cowboy had no clue and frankly didn't care - hadn't been the Plan to End All Plans itself. Taking a deep breath, Irvine threw himself into it, figuring that if everything else in his life went to hell, Zell Dincht would at least owe him favors for the rest of its potentially shortened span.  
  
"But aren't you forgettin' something here, Squall? Somethin' more important than Seifer?" Irvine continued to speak in what was perhaps the world's most hurried slow drawl, not enjoying how Squall's shoulders tensed at the mere mention of his nemesis' name.  
  
"Quistis and Zell, man. They're not only a pair of Balamb Garden's most important public figures -" and here Irvine pulled out his trump - "They're also your _friends_. How are they ever goin' to learn to work together if they aren't forced to?" He put on his most relaxed face, in an attempt to keep the vein in Squall's head from exploding. "I mean, Quistis and Zell are two of your most highly-ranked SeeDs, and if they can't work together, that's a serious problem."  
  
"I. Know. That." It sounded like Squall was grinding Magic Stones with his teeth. "I've discovered that." For extra emphasis, he shook the folder at Irvine.  
  
"Oh, so you're lettin' 'em get off easy?" Inwardly, Irvine was patting himself on the back for this plan - mostly because the mental act was distracting him from the impending doom of Squall's rage. "Look, man. You know as well as I do that Quistis'll never admit she messed up. Fact is, Zell won't either. They're both too stubborn to fix this one on their own, and it's just gonna go nowhere, y'know?"  
  
Squall said nothing. Irvine took this to mean the Commander was actually considering his idea. "At the same time, think about how much you'll hurt Quistis' pride if you reassign the mission. And Zell - Balamb's his hometown, man. You'll hurt both their feelings and accomplish nothing."  
  
The sweet-talking actually - _appeared to be working?_ The vein in Squall's head had calmed down slightly, and Irvine's cautious eyes definitely saw the extended envelope twitch slightly.  
  
"Look," Irvine said, keeping his voice smooth and suave. "Give 'em this new mission. Give 'em orders that they have to learn to work together. It'll be the best thing for everybody."  
  
Squall, for his part, was tired. It was oh-nine-hundred and he was exhausted. He'd only been conscious for three hours himself and he was already ready to throw this desk out the window and leave all this crap behind. For a second he had a daydream about cavorting in a field with Angelo and some dancing Moombas. Clearly the stress was affecting his mind. He had better things to worry about than parties and Bandits - didn't he? If Irvine Kinneas wanted to make a decision for him, then - _oh, hell with it_ , Squall decided. He was probably right about Quistis and Zell, anyway - Irvine knew them better than he did.  
  
"Acceptable," he said, finally.  
  
"Sign here," Irvine said, with the beam of a victorious man. _Kinneas charm wins again!_ "It's for the party."  
  
Almost absently, Squall scrawled his name across the extended funding request, not even blinking at the sections entitled _Water Gun War Kit, Castle-O-Balloons, and Fireworks Extravaganza (x3)_. "Tell my secretary to send SeeDs Trepe and Dincht up to my office."  
  
Irvine made a quick exit, wanting to get out of there before the words _Cake Buffet_ caught up with Squall's distracted mind. Smirking only slightly, he closed the door behind him into Squall's office, and turned to the secretary, a charming grin on his face and -  
  
"Hey," Selphie said, her face darkening into a pout. "I thought you'd gotten up early to work out."  
  
Irvine froze, albeit after noticing Rinoa's knowing smirk and the red color spreading across the secretary's cheeks. "Well, I was," he said lamely, wondering when he would ever be able to stop lying, "but then I remembered I had some things to take care of for the party."  
  
Rinoa's eyes narrowed, and she deftly nabbed the sheet out of Irvine's unwary hands. Selphie, on the other hand, squealed in excitement and launched herself towards Irvine.  
  
"This..." Rinoa sounded more confused than anything. "Squall signed this?"  
  
"Gimmie that!" Selphie spun off of Irvine and threw her arms around Rinoa, reading over her shoulder. "Cake Buffet?" she squawked. "You got Squall to sign off on the Cake Buffet? I _love_ you!"  
  
Rinoa's brow was increasingly furrowed. "He never signs off on this much money without warning," she said, almost to herself. "Why didn't he tell me he was planning this?"  
  
"Well, Rinoa, hun..." Irvine felt vaguely guilty, even thought that particular feeling had mostly been buried by the feeling of being-off-the-hook. Maybe he should just confess the whole scheme. Or at least part of it. Squall had just saved his ass - didn't he owe the Commander a little payback?  
  
"Don't _honey_ me!" Rinoa snapped suddenly. Shoving the paper at Selphie, she turned on her heel and stomped out of Squall's office altogether.  
  
Irvine watched her go, the feeling of guilt increasing until Selphie clamped her arms around him again, babbling something in his ear about amplifiers and fireworks and lasers. The feeling of his girlfriend's tight hug as she jiggled excitedly against him made him realize something very important: namely, that Rinoa was someone else's problem.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
"Squall?" Quistis knocked firmly on the door to Squall's office. Her stomach wasn't feeling very well, although admittedly some of the queasy feeling was still due to her magic-induced hangover. That, or the hangover relief medicine Dr. Kadowaki had forced her to drink. She still wasn't entirely certain what was in the viscous, faintly glowing green concoction and she wasn't particularly inclined to find out why the good doctor, of all people, even _knew_ of it. The rest of it could be attributed to nerves: had Squall found out that she and Zell had been in Balamb? Would he think she and Zell were dating? Worse: was he going to suspend her license _again?_  
  
"Come in." Squall's voice was calm; but then again, Squall's voice was usually deceptively calm right before he lived up to his namesake.  
  
Quistis opened the door tentatively. Squall's office was impeccable, as always. He seemed to have been doing a little cleaning and organizing. Quistis spotted a small tuft of brightly-colored hair poking out of the waste-basket, buried under a huge stack of papers. She swallowed.  
  
"Have a seat." Squall hadn't even looked at her; his eyes were fixed on a manila envelope on his desk. Quistis saw the corner of a couple full-size photos sticking out of it. She sighed inwardly. Somebody from the Balamb tabloids must have sent the photos of her and Zell at Felicia's to Squall. Surprisingly, she wasn't too concerned about the photos themselves (although she sincerely hoped that all shots of Zell carrying her allergy-prone body were sufficiently blurry) - if Squall wanted to think something about her and Zell, well, then, that was that, wasn't it? She was mostly concerned about her license: or more importantly, the lack thereof.  
  
Quistis sat down slowly, wondering whether there was any way for her to get out of this. She could try telling Squall that it was Zell with some other blonde woman - _Squall doesn't know what I look like dressed up, anyway!_ she thought rather cattily. But that would get Zell in trouble; and while a month ago she probably would've at least considered it, she felt strangely loath to pin anything on Zell now.  
  
It was probably just her conscience flaring up, Quistis decided. Zell had possibly saved her life - saved her from a horribly ignominious death by choking. Death by Hyne's Hot Sauce. Damn those little peppers, anyway. She felt beholden to Zell because of that, obviously. It wasn't that she wanted to... do something nice for him. Or, she did, but it was because he'd done something nice for her.  
  
Why was she thinking about Zell anyway? Quistis coughed to cover her moment of distraction, and snapped her eyes up to Squall. Not speaking, Squall handed her the manila folder. Resigned, Quistis opened it up - and paused, surprised and strangely shocked.  
  
The photos were grainy, but clear enough. The first one was of a SeeD van, decked out in toilet paper and a string of electric jalapeno lights with - were those _hot dogs?_ Quistis flipped to the next one. There was a boy, standing in the middle of a fountain - _oh, sweet Eden, that's our SeeD fountain_ , Quistis realized. He was standing in the rubble of the spot where Squall's likeness had once stood wearing nothing but - yes, those _were_ hot dogs. Thankfully this time there were... buns... in strategic areas. Quistis almost laughed until she noticed the boy's awkward stance. His legs were strangely grey, as if he'd been hit with a delayed release Break spell. His face looked rather anguished - and rather young.  
  
Disturbed, Quistis flipped to the next photo - and choked. A house had been wrapped in toilet paper and other various substances until it resembled nothing more than a gigantic hot dog bun; the door had somehow been formed into the plastic end of a giant wiener, and something bright orange had been sloshed over the entire thing. It reminded her of Hyne's Hot Sauce, and she shivered involuntarily. She did a double-take as she noticed its surroundings - wasn't that _Zell's_ house? Mentally she began calculating the damages Garden would incur trying to keep the martial artist confined once he got wind of Seifer's latest gag.  
  
"It's the Balamb Bandits again," Squall said, his voice so perfectly flat that even Quistis could tell how angry he was. "We've sent someone down to Soft the boy - he'll be alright, although he'll probably never throw pennies in our fountain again."  
  
Quistis felt almost delirious and bit her tongue to refrain from making a wisecrack. Instead she replied, "They seem to be escalating their pranks, sir."  
  
"Yes." Squall folded his hands in front of him. He probably should've paid more attention when Irvine was explaining why this was such a good idea. "I've assigned you and Zell to this mission again in the hopes that the two of you will learn to work out your differences. This isn't a request, Quistis. This is an order."  
  
He waited, watching as Quistis' eyes glazed over slightly. To anyone familiar with Instructor Trepe, this meant she was thinking. Squall knew the next step contained frantic protesting, stubborn refusal, and probably a few vague but snarky insults where Zell was concerned. For the first time in his life he was prepared to play the _I'm your Commander_ card to win an argument. Squall just really, really wanted this entire thing to be over. He watched Quistis expectantly.  
  
Quistis, on the other hand, wasn't actually considering arguing against Squall's annoyingly didactic order; her brain had breezed right past the part about working with Zell again. In reality, she was privately elated by the opportunity being presented to sink her claws into Seifer, and having Zell along for the ride would make their revenge that much more satisfying in the end. Her mind was already turning, trying to formulate a plan that would finally help them catch the miscreant, preferably with as much _"unnecessary roughness"_ as possible.  
  
Seifer would be prepared for them to come after him. He'd have set a trap. To outsmart a trap, sometimes you needed bait.  
  
And suddenly, in Quistis' mind, _The Plan_ clicked into place. "Accepted, sir," she said calmly. "I'd like to request a backup cadet."  
  
Squall blinked. It wasn't often that Quistis caught him off-guard: she was undeniably predictable. He'd expected some sort of argument - some sort of statement containing no less than thirty-seven excellent reasons why she and Zell should never work together again and at least two hidden innuendos about his hairstyle. "..." he said dumbly, surprise reverting his vocabulary back into its pre-Sorceress eloquence. "Why?" he finally managed to ask, wondering what was up her sleeve.  
  
"Zell and I have already shown that we have problems getting our strategies to mesh," Quistis replied, still unruffled. "In case this happens again, I'd like to have a backup who can take care of the situation before anything... detrimental happens." She paused, resting one finger lightly on her lips in thought. "Someone whose specialty isn't necessarily combat, but rather - fast thinking. An academic, if you will." She smiled at him. It was a nice enough smile, but to Squall, who worked with Quistis on a daily basis, it looked more like the evil grin of a Coeurl.  
  
Squall couldn't necessarily fault her logic, although a small part of him was still gaping in awe at a Quistis who had not only agreed with an order, but had suggested a backup for herself in case of failure. "Who do you have in mind?"  
  
Quistis' lips curled briefly in a sneer which she hid in a quick smile. "Martin DeBrye," she said, smiling sweetly. "He works in the Library. He's very bright, but he doesn't have that much field experience because of his poor vision. And he's still a cadet - you can consider this part of his field exam."  
  
Something about the way she said it - the light in her eyes, the smugness of her grin - made Squall take pause. He sat back in his chair and looked at Quistis, hard, as if seeing her for the first time. A lesser woman might have cracked in the face of such scrutiny. Quistis, however, had had ample opportunity to grow immune to Squall's stares. Being told to _talk to a wall_ could do that to a person, she thought with some vindication.  
  
The silence stretched thin in the office; finally, it was Squall who broke it first with a heavy sigh. He was tired; he needed a vacation from bandits and mayors and wayward SeeDs and most of all, he needed Rinoa to stop forcing him to sleep on the couch. "I'll have to discuss this with Zell first," he said slowly.  
  
If anything, Quistis' eyes shone a little more brightly than before. Squall began to question his sanity. Not only had Quistis requested a SeeD _cadet_ as backup for _herself_ , now she was actually looking forward to having _Zell_ , of all people, question the soundness of her own strategy. And here he was, seriously considering it. A muffled clatter from outside of his closed doors drew their attention, and when Quistis turned to face Squall once more, her Coeurl smile was back in place.  
  
"That should be him now," she said placidly. Sure enough, the door burst open moments later, and a sweating, out-of-breath blonde SeeD came crashing in behind it.  
  
"Oh man! Sorry I'm late," Zell huffed, his face beet-red. He gave a quick, unsteady bow of apology to Squall and then halted awkwardly in mid-air as he caught sight of Quistis, uncertain of what to make of her presence or her strange, disconcerting smile. His first gut reaction was that she remembered with everything from their evening together in the Library with perfect clarity, and was somehow plotting with Squall to murder him quietly. His second, also gut reaction, was that for a person with a zinger of a magic hangover, she looked pretty good. His final and less spontaneous reaction was to straighten up out of the uncomfortable half-bow he had found himself frozen in before his back began to hurt. Great, and now Squall was looking at him funny, too. "Uh, so, what's up?" he fenced, quickly directing his gaze away from what he called the Danger Zone - a smiling Quistis - and right into the Minefield, it looked like, from the grim twist to Squall’s lips and hard glint in his eye.  
  
"It's about Balamb," Squall began, and Zell immediately felt himself flushing deeply.  
  
 _Shit! He found out that we went to Felicia's! What if he thinks it's a date? What if he decks my ranking? What if he takes Quistis' license again?_ He frowned at the last thought; most of the cadets would probably be thanking him for freeing him from another week of Terrible Trepe's coursework. And it wasn't like it affected him personally, after all. Then again, the expression that had graced her face when she was in her classroom... Zell shook his head firmly. _No_. He wouldn't be the reason Quistis lost her teaching license again; it wasn't fair to her, and it was his fault, in a way, for asking her out in the first place. Now he just had to figure out how to make Squall see that, though...  
  
"Okay, look, I know what you're gonna say," Zell began, talking rapidly as he held his hands up. "But it's totally my own fault, alright? Quistis had nothin' to do with it this time, so -"  
  
Squall's eyebrow quirked as he silenced the blathering blonde with a wave of his hand. "Of course Quistis isn't involved in this personally. You two weren't even there this time. The Balamb Bandits targeted another citizen."  
  
"What?" The silence that loomed as the import of Squall's words percolated into Zell's mind was broken by a rustle of paper. Quistis was standing before him, her back to Squall's desk as she faced him, subtly blocking him from their Commander's view.  
  
 _"Trust me,"_ she mouthed to him quietly while handing him the envelope. _"And for Hyne's sake, don't lose your temper,"_ she added silently for good measure, tempering her grin with a much more familiar stern glance. All of that was quickly forgotten as he pulled the memo away from the stack of photographs she pressed into his hands and studied the grainy pictures before him. "There's been an incident..." he heard her say distantly. He was sure her lips were moving, and that she was no doubt rattling off facts and details in her usual precise style. Zell, however, wasn't listening. The focus of his attention span had narrowed down to the window of the photographs he was currently rifling through with shaking hands.  
  
 _... the van... my house..._ and - _oh Hyne_ , he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to eat another hotdog again, and for that alone, the crime was _unforgivable._  
  
"... requested backup," Squall was saying to him. "Zell? Are you even listening?" Quistis had stepped to his side, obviously getting wind of the storm brewing behind his telltale scowl and preparing whatever damage control she thought might be necessary.  
  
"He's dead meat," Zell managed to mumble through gritted teeth.  
  
"Pardon?" Squall said, his brows furrowing.  
  
"I said that bastard is HISTORY!" Zell replied, his voice growing progressively louder as the photos crumpled between his shaking fists. "I'm gonna grind him up into little pieces an'- an'-" The tattoo on the side of Zell's face was starting to blend in nicely with the rest of his skin from the furiousness of his flush. "An' turn him into a goddamn HOTDOG!"  
  
Squall gave him an understanding grimace. "Zell, we've all had our own unique experiences with Seifer -"  
  
"THAT ASSHOLE FUCKED WITH MY LITTLE BRO!" Zell roared in response. "And that's MY HOUSE!" Quistis' arm had moved from unobtrusively pressing into his own to actually physically restraining him from storming over to Squall's desk and breaking something.  
  
"That... was your _brother_ ," Squall repeated, shooting a quick glance at Quistis as he felt his migraine begin to spike. Had she known? Quistis only gave him her best wide-eyed look of confusion and surprise in reply, one which lacked its usual intensity due to the white tracks her fingers were leaving on Zell's flushed skin as she gripped his arm to restrain him.  
  
"I'm gonna KILL him!" Zell swore belligerently. Between the interesting shade of purple his face was beginning to take and the flaring of his nostrils, he could've passed for a scrawny third member of the GF Brothers.  
  
"Zell, you need to calm down, " Quistis was saying, forcefully directing him backwards into a chair. She managed to pry the mangled remains of the report out of his fingers and surreptitiously toss them back to Squall.  
  
"You gotta give me this one, Squall,” Zell managed to bite out. "I gotta know if Ma's alright!" Then, a gamble: "You can't stop me from going. " This was not entirely true; Squall could and probably would be able to stop him from going anywhere. But dammit, that punk Seifer had messed with his _Ma_. "C’mon, man, you know this ain't right!"  
  
"Zell, be quiet."  
  
"But - but -"  
  
Squall's fist descended onto his abused desk with a loud thump. One of the leg supports collapsed with a quiet crack, and the desk came to rest at a haphazard angle from the floor as papers, pens and dolls slowly began sliding towards the now gently-sloping edge. "I said Shut. Up." Squall, for his part, was starting to second-guess Irvine's grand plan. Zell was obviously too emotionally involved to handle the mission; he opened his mouth to say as much and was cut off by Quistis, who spoke first.  
  
"He's right, Squall. Zell _needs_ this mission." Quistis put a hand on Zell's shoulder, a motion which would've set off a myriad of alarm bells in Squall's head had he been paying attention. As it was, the organizational avalanche had distracted him sufficiently; Squall's jaw twitched, but Quistis only fixed him under her own patented stare. "Zell should check up on his family anyway - you can't seriously expect him to remain here and do nothing while they're obviously in danger." Though to say they were _in danger_ was a bit of a stretch. True, the Dincht family was in danger of mortal embarrassment, maybe, but to Quistis, what was done was already done. She really didn't see how it could get much worse than having your house transformed into a life-sized Hyne's Hot Sauce advertisement. After all, they had weathered many years of not only having a boisterous Zell as their son, but also being proud of it.  
  
"It would be more efficient to send us both on this mission. I'll keep him in line, and even if I can't we'll have a failsafe in place. Squin- _Cadet DeBrye_ will be there to keep an eye on us. Sir." Squall didn't look entirely convinced; the opportunity however was too great to risk. Quistis knew Squall detested emotional displays just as much as she did; swallowing her distaste, she curbed her pride and struck a low blow to ensure her victory. "Squall, please. Don't think of this as just another mission. Think of it as a personal favor to us. Your _friends._ "  
  
Squall groaned inwardly. There it was again. Damn that guilty conscience of his; it led to all sorts of problems, like inane knick-knacks displayed prominently on his desk and sensitive missions assignments being handed out because of _hopeful requests_. It was bad enough that Rinoa was upset with him; Irvine and now even Quistis was dragging _friendship_ into it as well. Right about then Squall was questioning just how much trouble keeping his friends was worth, considering the pinch he was sure the cowboy had somehow managed to leave him in. Then again, he was certain that opting to bar his office doors permanently from any intrusion and tossing his phone out the window would only land him in deeper trouble with Rinoa that he already was.  
  
"Fine. You have your assignment. Be sure to keep _him_ ," Squall gave a curt nod towards the almost-catatonic Zell "- under control. Now get out of here and have my secretary send Cadet DeBrye up for a briefing."  
  
Keeping her victorious smile to herself, Quistis bowed her head quickly in silent acquiescence and ushered Zell briskly out of the confines of Squall's office. Zell stopped before they could make a full retreat, turning and regarding Squall with huge eyes.  
  
"So you mean you're lettin' me go to Balamb?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"Just leave," Squall replied, dropping his head into his palm with a silent groan. Even the heavy closed doors of his office couldn't quite drown out the sound of Zell's furious _"Yeah!"_ from outside. The Commander sighed and gathered the now-scattered papers on his now-crooked desk into a neat pile. Although he didn't necessarily doubt Quistis' judgment, this Cadet DeBrye would have to be one hell of a back-up squad to stop an enraged Zell Dincht.  
  


**.x.x.x.**

  
  
Zell threw another punch to the air, his entire demeanor tense and vicious. Students scattered before him. Quistis herself was a little unnerved by the entire display: she'd never seen Zell this full of dangerous energy, not even when he was preparing for a Final Heaven. She was trying to hold on to his elbow - trying, and almost failing. If only she could herd Zell somewhere safe before he exploded... hopefully she could contain some of the damage. For now, Zell was still silent, almost _catatonically_ silent, simply punching the air in spastic spurts. Phrases like "the calm before the storm" and "the eye of the hurricane" flitted across Quistis' mind, and she knew she had to hurry to get him away from Squall's office before Zell's temper changed the Commander's mind.  
  
Student faces paled in fear as they approached; apparently between Zell's red-faced rage and her own tight-lipped, satisfied smile, the danger was almost tangible. With no small amount of difficulty, Quistis managed to lead a kicking Zell to the elevator and down the appropriate hallway. She'd never really registered how... _strong_ Zell was. He was short, yes - actually shorter than she was (especially in her heels) - and he was more compact than most fist-fighters, which simply made him look small and almost child-like. But his size had nothing to do with the _intensity_ of his strength. Quistis found herself re-evaluating her opinion of Zell as related to his size, and favorably. The punches he was throwing into the air would've hurt an Aero spell, and she could tell by the laxness of his hands that he wasn't even _trying_ yet. His shoulder muscles were barely flexing as he jabbed at what she could only imagine was an invisible Seifer Almasy. Her mind's-eye could almost see Seifer wincing in pain as Zell's punches landed in sensitive male areas; Quistis smiled to herself, and it was not a kind smile.  
  
Realizing she'd spent the past five minutes thinking about Zell's _muscles_ , Quistis blushed and fumbled for her ID card. Clinging to Zell's shirt with one hand and swiping her card with the next, she managed to shove him through the door to her office, which was the closest place she could think of that was safe. Once the door had closed behind her with a reassuring _click_ , Quistis relaxed her vice-like grip on Zell's arm.  
  
Zell instantly kicked over the nearest thing he could see, which happened to be Quistis' potted plant. She bit her lip as the pot cracked and rich, dark soil splattered all over her carpet and walls. Pottery shards bounced and ricocheted, clattering around the room.  
  
"That fuckin'... piece of _shit!_ " Zell kicked the remains of the pot for good measure; it slammed into the opposite wall, leaving an interesting dent shape which Quistis knew she'd be explaining to the custodial service in a few days. Wincing, she continued to stand still, not wanting to bring Zell's attention in her direction. Zell would never hurt her on purpose - but Meteor Strike wasn't exactly known for its accuracy.  
  
Zell took a couple slow, wrenching steps forward, still muttering mostly to himself. "He's just... bastard's just pickin' on me, now." One fist flashed out, glowing with sudden force; Zell slammed it into the wall, snarling. "My fuckin' house. My fuckin' brother!"  
  
He pulled his hand out of the crumbling hole, sinking to a crouch in near-frustration. Seifer Almasy had tormented him before, yes. But the pranks had been aimed at _him_ , and Zell Dincht was man enough to take them. This time Seifer had lashed out at his _family_. His _hometown_. Zell pounded the ground in frustration and anger, vaguely feeling the room shudder. If Seifer Almasy wanted to mess with him - if he _really_ wanted a piece of Zell Dincht - if he really, _honestly_ thought Zell was nothing but a Chicken Wuss -  
  
Belatedly, Zell became aware of a sharp voice calling his name. Something had grabbed his arm mid-swing - _swing?_ Apparently he'd been punching the carpet - and was holding him back from... no, not something, some _one_. Quistis.  
  
She was glowing faintly with the force of her Junctions, all of which she'd had to rearrange onto her brute strength before she could hold Zell's arm back long enough to say his name. "That's enough, Zell!" she managed to spit out through gritted teeth as she wrenched his arm back.  
  
Zell sagged instantly. His gaze fell to the ground in shame, his rage still burning. Unfortunately, the state of Quistis' carpet didn't make him feel much better. Burnt concentric circles marked the floor in a ragged and irregular pattern; at the center of each was a small still-smoking crater, almost the size of his fist.  
  
"Well," Quistis said acidly, dropping Zell's arm in relief. "It's a good thing I hated that carpet. Although I can't say the same thing about my plant." Her eyes flicked to the other side of the room, where Zell saw - his face flamed - dirt scattered everywhere, decorated by shards of pottery and a few forlorn green leaves.  
  
"Hyne, Quisty, I'm sorry." He didn't even have to _try_ to make it sound heartfelt: his emotions were still raging. "I just - that's my family, dammit." There was an uncomfortable pause, during which Zell only managed to feel more embarrassed. "I'll buy you a new plant?"  
  
To his surprise, Quistis laughed. "Why do you think I brought you in here, Zell?" She gestured at their surroundings. "Better a plant than some young cadet."  
  
Zell rocked back on his heels. "We gotta get him this time, Quisty." His voice was urgent. "I'll do whatever you say, I promise. We gotta get him this time. He's gone too far."  
  
"That he has," Quistis said vaguely. "They both have." The cold, calculating tone in her voice made Zell look up in alarm. She was looking out the window, her eyes narrowed and focused. She had dirt all over her blouse - _not that I'm looking at her blouse_ , Zell thought hastily - and a long smear of it down her cheek. She looked dangerous, much like she had the night before. Except this time, Zell doubted she had an Esuna-high as an excuse. This was simply _dangerous_. "We're not going to let them take advantage of us any more."  
  
The word 'both' finally caught up to Zell's brain. "Wait, who?"  
  
Quistis turned to him, and her gaze softened slightly, though it was no less dangerous. "Listen, Zell," she began. "I need you to focus, and work with me, or else this plan isn't going to succeed at all."  
  
"Plan?" Slowly, Zell stood up. "There's a plan?"  
  
"Oh, yes." Quistis turned her Coeurl-like smile back towards the window. "I have a plan."


	9. In Which Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Stoned

The sky overhead was crystal blue, and the bright morning sun which hung in it was not only shining, but downright _sparkling_ over the gates of Balamb Garden. The fresh scent of blooming flowers and the sound of gentle birdsong filled the air; the harmonious chimes of the Garden's class bells completed the absolutely perfect atmosphere. Obviously, today was going to be an extraordinary day.

Or so thought SeeD cadet Martin DeBrye, more commonly known as 'Squinty' to his enemies - enemies who were currently watching him approach their standard-issue SeeD buggy with twin looks of disgust upon observing the somewhat girlish spring to his step.

"Do I really gotta do this?" Zell muttered out of the side of his mouth to Quistis, who was standing rigidly with a painfully fake smile plastered across her face.

"Just grin and bear it," Quistis mouthed back carefully, not dropping the smile. "It's all part of the plan."

Her teeth were tightly clenched, Zell noticed. "Uh, y'know, maybe you should relax a little, Quisty. That smile is kinda scary."

Quistis' grin faltered as a look of dismay flitted across her face. "How so?" she asked, honestly confused. She was trying her best to project a friendly, inviting atmosphere in the hopes of waylaying whatever suspicions her victim would have about her new-found personality.

"Well, it's just... uh..." Zell rubbed the back of his neck and wondered why, for the thousandth time, he couldn't just keep his big mouth shut. Now he was saddled with the problem of explaining to Quistis that her smile looked weird because she _never smiled_ \- at least not with her _teeth._ Unable to come up with a better reason on the fly, he coughed into a fist awkwardly and turned his attention back to the incoming cadet. "I'll tell ya later," he muttered reluctantly.

"Quistis!" The pinch-eyed cadet greeted her warmly, his arms extended fully as if for a hug. Quistis' composure wavered ever so slightly, and Zell almost hurt himself with the speed at which he pushed himself off of the buggy and between the boy and his intended target.

"Yo," he greeted coldly. To Zell's annoyance, his fierce scowl and intimidating stance did nothing to cow the determined librarian.

"Well well well, if it isn't Dincht again. How's that application for Instructorship going, hmm?" Squinty gave him a cheeky smirk and shouldered his way past Zell and towards Quistis. At least, he tried to. The result from his failed attempt was something more like a bounce and a few uncontrolled steps backwards. Recovering quickly, Squinty straightened his pressed SeeD uniform and sneered at the martial artist. "In case you weren't properly informed, you primate, Instructor Trepe _requested_ my presence on this mission." His eyes narrowed in a calculating glance and the smirk returned full force. "Obviously she felt your skills weren't sufficient for such a ... delicate situation."

Visions of his house as a hot-dog flitted through Zell's mind. _I'll show him a delicate situation._ Zell's hands tightened into fists at his side; fortunately, Quistis decided to intervene before he could smash her carefully constructed plan apart with a well-placed punch.

"There's no need for such formality. We're all friends here, aren't we?" Quistis placed a hand on Zell's shoulder and not-so-gently pulled him back, turning to face Squinty with the unnaturally bright smile on her face. "Please, you can just call me..." And here, her voice caught for a moment before she managed to continue smoothly - "... Quistis."

If anything, Squinty's already smug countenance became even more satisfied than before; Quistis was notorious for her insistence upon protocol, particularly when it concerned the Trepies . To allow, much less invite one of them to call her by first name alone was already history in the making, and the nerdy little librarian who was hanging on her every word knew it. Zell watched Quistis loop her arm through Squinty's with a fierce scowl which only deepened in proportion to her smile as she guided the cadet around to the passenger side of the buggy. He nearly wrenched the door off of the vehicle when he heard her giggle - since when did she _giggle_ with a _Trepie,_ anyway - and slid sullenly into the driver's seat. He had to admit, when Quistis put her mind to a mission, she was exceedingly good at it. The inane banter she was trading with that squint-eyed loser was making him wonder if she hadn't actually switched personalities with Rinoa while he wasn't looking. Maybe she'd asked Rinoa to use her sorceress-mind-control trick, or something. Either way, it was making him twitchy.

Zell started up the buggy and pulled out of Garden's gates, trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness permeating the whole situation. The outgoing, flighty woman sitting next to him and flirting blatantly with Squinty just wasn't Quistis. Her high-pitched, melodious laughter rose in response to something _Martin,_ or whatever she was calling the jerk, said, and Zell's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "It wasn't _that_ funny," Zell groused aloud, and the smirking librarian spared him a condescending glare.

"Got a problem, Dincht?" Squinty's voice was filled with a confidence that could only have come from thinking Quistis on his side. The only problem was, according to Quistis' scheme, Squinty was right. There wasn't much Zell could do about the arrogant little prick's attitude; besides, he had bigger fish to fry than some mooning librarian. Rotten, stinking fish like Almasy. He frowned as he noticed Squinty leaning towards him. "I can't help it if she likes me better than you," the boy whispered to him, a vindictive smirk on his face.

There was the plan, and then there was his pride. Just how far did that little shit think he could push? He'd nearly killed Quistis, for Hyne's sake! With Hyne's own Sauce to boot! "Listen up, you assho-" Zell began to bellow.

Quistis, once again, intervened to save him from blowing the plan (and his chance for revenge at Seifer) completely to hell. "Now come on, Zell. You know Squinty needs this field experience," she said soothingly. "Can't you at least try to play nice?" she added with a hint of a reprimand in her voice. Perfectly executed, her tone and words were planned to puff the overconfident librarian up even more. The only problem lay in her delivery.

"Squinty?" the boy said suspiciously, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits as his head whipped around to look at Quistis.

 _Aww, nuts,_ Zell thought to himself, not putting very much effort into ignoring his misplaced feelings of relief from Quistis' unintentional slip. Somewhere underneath all that charm, his Quistis was still meticulously plotting. Hey - maybe this meant he could finally pummel Squinty into a pulp, and they could just leave him here and take on Seifer by themselves. His hands tightened around the steering wheel in anticipation.

"Ah... yes," Quistis said quickly, covering her discomfort with a wide smile. "Squinty. It's..." And here, somehow, she miraculously managed to pull off a blush. It was actually quite different from her usual angry flushes, Zell noticed - those usually left her pale skin a blotchy shade of angry red, kind of like she had been rubbing her face through that poisonous weed in the Training Center. This, however, was different - a light dusting of pink across her high cheekbones that he found strangely compelling.

"... just a little nickname I've been calling you," Quistis finished. "Your... well... your eyes, behind those glasses..." She gestured slightly with her hand, looking mildly discomfited.

"What about them?" Squinty asked cautiously, his tone guarded.

"It's..." A long pause filled the interior of the buggy. "... cute. The way you scrunch your eyes up all the time. I find it quite ... ah... disarming."

Zell managed to keep the buggy from swerving off the road, though he did have to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the guffaws from surfacing. He had to hand it to Quistis, she was the consummate diplomat. Surprisingly, the excuse worked; not only had she managed to use his nickname without breaking their cover, she had also somehow turned the insult into a term of endearment. The force of the grin plastered over Squinty's face was almost blinding.

"Well, my dear instructor," Squinty replied, scooting much too close to Quistis for anyone's comfort. "I hope you don't mind if I call you Quis. Not that I would dream about ruining the perfection of your own name," he added hastily. Then he leaned in, and Quistis subtly leaned back. "It's just that being able to call you that would make me feel..." A stray finger managed to poke itself onto the patch of bare shoulder between Quistis' peach vest and her leather arm guards. "... special."

"Quisty sounds better," Zell mumbled, his good mood evaporating just as suddenly as it had arrived. He felt a sudden unreasonable urge to reach over and break that finger before it traveled any further north. Or south. Or anywhere, for that matter. In fact, he'd break all of that little creep's fingers just for good measure. His mood continued to take a nosedive as he noticed Quistis reaching for said hand and plucking it off of her shoulder. Instead of shoving it back towards its owner where it belonged, however, she covered the offending appendage with her own and placed it _in her lap._

Zell saw red. Literally. This was because the moment at which Squinty's hand made near-contact with Quistis' thigh - _that could've been MY hand if I'd just listened to her at Felicia's_ \- he froze. The buggy, however, didn't; its speed, combined with the sharp turn in the roadway, resulted in an unexpected cross-country detour through Balamb's grassy plains. Fortunately, the Garden-issue vehicle was well equipped for off-road travel. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding the bite bugs that just happened to be passing by at that moment. They impacted against the window shield with a sickening squelch, blinding all three occupants of the van.

"ZELL! Keep your eyes on the road!" Quistis shouted, reflexively crushing Squinty's hand which was still in her grip. Squinty himself emitted a very high-pitched shriek of pain as he simultaneously tried to extract his hand. Cursing, Zell swerved back onto the road and fumbled through the buggy's controls. After a good three squirts of industrial strength Garden Window Cleaner _(guaranteed to eat through just about anything)_ and a few swipes of the window wipers, enough of the splatter was gone for Zell to be able to see through the cloudy window. He concentrated intently on returning to the road, not daring to look over his shoulder at Quistis - who was no doubt furious.

A looming silence filled the buggy as Zell hunched over the steering wheel and a fuming Quistis stared straight ahead, her lips pressed tightly together. Between them, Squinty was doubled over, nursing his injured hand and emitting the occasional whimper.

"I think we should forget about the small talk for now and just concentrate on getting to Balamb in one piece," Quistis said eventually, her tone clipped.

Zell swallowed nervously. "Yeah," he replied cautiously.

**.x.x.x.**

"I don't think they're comin', ya know?" Raijin's hoarse whisper was quickly punctuated by a quiet "Ow!" as Fujin kicked him.

"QUIET," she murmured, her eye glinting dangerously.

"But that hurt!" Raijin began to whine, before he was quickly hushed by Seifer.

"Keep it down, Raij," Seifer muttered. Mostly because Fujin was right - he was sure the Chickenwuss would be arriving at the scene of the crime soon enough, whether Squall wanted him there or not. If there was one thing Zell was, it was completely predictable. There was no way he'd sit at the Garden and let this latest prank pass, not when it dealt directly with his family. And frankly, Seifer was glad. Things were getting kind of boring; toilet paper, crude graffiti and stolen junk food no longer seemed to faze the people of Balamb as much as it used to a week ago. Fujin was also starting to get a little pushy; with her constant demand to fill her sweet tooth, it was looking more and more like SHE was running the whole Bandit operation. He needed a change of pace. One that a certain dense spike-haired blonde could undoubtedly provide.

"SHUT IT," Fujin repeated belligerently, her eye scanning the market square eagerly.

Both Seifer and Raijin winced at her tone.

"Scary, ya know," Raijin whispered cautiously to Seifer. He was silenced by another one of Fujin's sharp looks. Seifer ignored them, tensing in anticipation as a lone figure wandered into the plaza. A feral grin slowly spread across Seifer's face, and he didn't even have to look to know Fujin's expression was matching his own.

**.x.x.x.**

Quistis fidgeted nervously as the trio slowly approached Ground Zero; with the exception of Zell's little off-road jaunt, the plan was proceeding flawlessly. That didn't help to alleviate her paranoia, however; having been caught off guard by Seifer and his friends once already, she was less than eager to repeat the experience. It was for that reason alone that she was junctioned to the teeth. She had even requested Bahamut on a temporary loan from Squall; it was a telling measure of how much he wanted this mission to be over and done with that he gave up the powerful Guardian Force without so much as a protest. The five GFs that were currently simultaneously nesting in her mind were practically buzzing with unreleased energy; it didn't help that most of them didn't get along with each other. She could almost hear Shiva giving Cactaur the cold shoulder as it needled her.

Still, despite all the noise and discomfort in her head, the GFs were doing their job. She was blanketed by almost every protection in the handbook known SeeD; with a defensive aura as thick as the one she had surrounded herself with, she probably could have faced Ultimecia alone and fared considerably well. Her nerves were hyper-sensitized, thanks to Cerberus and Cactaur stretching her awareness to a preternatural degree. She could practically count the fine hairs on Zell's forearm individually from where she was standing several paces away. No, nothing was getting by Quistis this time around - not if she could help it.

The effects of her protective layers didn't go completely unnoticed, though Zell of course was oblivious as usual. It wasn't a surprise that he rarely took full advantage of his own junctions; sometimes it really seemed like he wouldn't know a spell was coming his way until it hit him directly between the eyes. Squinty, on the other hand, clearly felt the effects of her Guardian Forces as they radiated waves of magic. He kept on pausing periodically to sniff the air, his nose twitching wildly each time she neared him.

All too soon the bright yellow crime scene tape stretched across the entrance to Balamb's Market Square came into view; Quistis hid her knowing smirk as the GFs in her head began clamoring wildly. She easily spotted the glint of Fujin's white hair and the bobbing tip of Raijin's staff from behind the window in the darkened building they were hiding in on the other side of the plaza. Fortunately they were still too far away to be spotted by the Bandits themselves. And now, it was time to collect the reward for all of that pain and suffering she had endured from flirting - _if stomaching his sycophant platitudes for almost the entire time could be considered flirting at all_ \- with Cadet DeBrye.

"Zell, come here for a minute," Quistis said in warning. "Martin, I want you to go ahead and scout the area for us."

Zell nodded absently, his eyes trained on the outline of the ruined memorial fountain in the distance. It was, admittedly, a sorry sight. Squall's statue was completely destroyed, Zell's own likeness was beheaded (no thanks to her own whip), one of Selphie's legs was missing completely and the barrel of Irvine's gun was nothing more than a jagged piece of stone. It seemed like only her statue had come out of the ordeal completely unscathed - _wait. What IS that?_ Narrowing her eyes, Quistis studied the fountain. Her GF-enhanced vision easily picked out the contours of her stone double, and she felt her temper spike. Someone had thoughtfully drawn in a much less fashionable version of her glasses with greasy black paint. If that wasn't bad enough, she had been given a curled moustache and a goatee to boot. And over the left side of her chest, her heart had been stenciled in - with the words "I" and "CHICKENWUSS" scrawled above and below it.

"Quis? Uh, Quis?" Squinty's nervous voice broke through the slowly churning anger that was working its way into her expression; she shot him a cold glare that held none of its former coyness and was 100 percent Mission Leader Trepe. The librarian hastily backpedaled. "Not that I'm, uh, questioning your orders, ma'am, but... do you really think it's necessary that I ...take point?" He paused, his throat bobbing nervously, and then he made a quick gesture towards Zell, his voice losing all its literary eloquence with a fearful squeak. "I mean, shouldn't we send _him_ in instead?"

Well, he wasn't entirely stupid, she would grant him that. Still, Quistis reflected, it would really be a bother if Squinty started exercising common sense and good judgment right now, of all times. "I understand your concern," she replied. "Let me Scan the area for danger first." Casting the spell, she felt her head spin as the boosted magical power provided by the GFs displayed not only Seifer, Raijin and Fujin's exact location, weaponry and spell components, but also the contents of their last meals, the date of their most recent baths, and one too many particulars about the ingrown toenail on Raijin's right foot. Wincing, she managed to pull her mind away from the Scan and sort out the relevant details. Not surprisingly, the Posse was rigged to the gills with an assortment of Slow, Stop and Break spells - most likely the same ones they had used on Zell's little brother. Whoever stepped foot into that marketplace unprepared would be walking into their own doom.

Quistis felt her smile returning. "It's all clear," she reassured Squinty. Then, pausing, she added: "Oh, but remember to junction yourself against elemental attacks."

"Elemental?" Squinty asked suspiciously. "Wasn't your mission last time compromised by status -"

"Elemental," Quistis repeated firmly. "The Balamb Bandits have displayed a proclivity towards using fire magic, after all. It's better to be safe than sorry." Without missing a beat, she turned around. "Zell," she said sharply. "We need to have a talk about your poor driving." She waved an unconcerned hand at the hesitating cadet and pulled Zell away from the marketplace.

Sighing, Martin turned back towards the wide open marketplace. For the first time, he wished he had listened to Sasha's advice and chosen to forgo wearing his SeeD uniform for casual wear, like most other cadets. He had been so swept up in Quistis' unexpected mission request that he had instinctively grabbed his dress uniform, replete with its prominent 'Library Committee' bars, to proudly display to her. Now it seemed less like a matter of pride and more like one of foolishness; he felt as though he practically had a bull's eye painted on his back. Still... if his Quis said it was safe, then it probably was. Who was he to question his commanding officer? Certainly not that loser Dincht.

He closed his eyes briefly, re-arranging his Junctions as Quistis had suggested. He was still using the bulk GF Balamb Garden gave to its undergraduate cadets for training - it was a Chocobo summon, relatively benign and weak, with only a few Junctioning abilities (and a very low risk for both memory loss and uncontrollable damage to the Garden itself). Not actually being SeeD yet - or, technically, even up for the SeeD exam - Martin didn't have access to any of the higher-powered GFs like Shiva or Ifrit . Earlier that day he'd contemplated hacking into the Garden computers where Shiva was usually stored, but had decided against it because he knew how much his Quis hated rule-breaking.

For a moment he wished he had. Then he realized that he was on a _mission_ with _Quistis Trepe_ , and that meant he'd never been safer in his life than at this particular point in time. With a confident smile, he stepped towards the yellow barrier of the crime scene tape and ducked underneath it.

**.x.x.x.**

"Who the fuck is that?" Seifer muttered to himself in annoyance. The kid certainly didn't look like Dincht. And he sure as hell didn't look like Quistis.

Raijin fidgeted next to him uneasily. "Uh, that ain't him, ya know?"

Seifer growled with exasperation. "I can see that," he groused.

Raijin shrugged. "So whaddaya want us to do now, boss?" he asked, scratching the back of his head with his staff. "I mean, if it ain't them, it's hardly worth all that trouble, ya?"

Seifer was inclined to agree with the big man; he had better things to do than waste a fine, sunny day on some fresh-faced SeeD cadet. Things like lounging on the pier, or watching the grass grow by the fishing shack or maybe trying to locate Fujin's secret stash of cheese puffs. Before he could give the command to retreat, however, Fujin cut in. Again. She really WAS getting pushy.

"ATTACK," she said simply, a malicious smile turning up the corner of her lips.

Raijin hesitated, still half-crouching on the floor. "Uh, boss?" he said uncertainly, looking at Seifer for confirmation.

Seifer, in turn, fixed a cool stare on Fujin. Did she really want usurp him and become the leader of their small posse, after everything he'd been through for those two? "Fujin?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Fujin turned her head and glared at both of them with her one good eye. "LIBRARY COMMITTEE," she hissed, gesturing at the uniformed cadet who was now standing in the center of the square. Obviously the fool didn't know the first thing about basic SeeD tactics; he was blatantly inspecting the fountain carelessly, in full dress uniform, weaponless and unaccompanied by any sort of visible backup.

Fujin had good reason to want to go after that particular cadet, Seifer realized. The Disciplinary Committee and the Library Committee had never been on good terms, at least not during Seifer's reign in the former. This was not all completely his fault, however; the bad blood had started with the Library Committee first. Their team had always attracted the more intellectual, snobby types who liked to look down those who weren't as mentally acute as they. During her own days as a SeeD, Fujin had more than enough of her own share of run-ins with them; her unusual method of speech had made her the target of more than one of their disparaging jokes. That was really what had started the rivalry between Library and Disciplinary Committees in the first place, after all.

"Fine," Seifer said, giving her a tight nod. "But I don't want you two going out there together. A lone cadet, all dolled up and by himself... I don't like it. One of you take point," he commanded, his eyes darting around the empty plaza for a possible ambush.

"ME," Fujin replied instantly, and began moving for the door.

Seifer gave her a quick nod. "Back her up," he muttered to Raijin, who gave him a confident grin and a thumbs-up before following.

**.x.x.x.**

When the first spell hit Squinty, Zell felt it was a thing of beauty. He had to hand it to Seifer, the man was a bastard, but he did know how to attack with style. The Stop spell slammed squarely into Squinty's backside almost at the exact moment he bent over to inspect some of the fountain's rubble; it was quickly followed by the slow-petrifaction combination that had been visited upon his own brother. He was sure Quistis would have had a field day analyzing that spell - if not for the fact that it was being cast AT, rather than BY them.

"GOTCHA," a loud, unmistakable voice echoed across the cobblestones, and the familiar white-haired form of Fujin emerged from the shadows. She didn't know how right she was, Zell thought with a fierce grin as he smacked a fist into his palm.

"Hey Fujin! Long time no see," Zell yelled, stepping out from his own hiding place at the corner of the marketplace. His blood was rushing, and his fingers twitched eagerly. Quistis would probably be annoyed at him for not waiting, but he couldn't hold himself back - not when one of the reasons his house was currently hot-dogged was standing right there. He also tried to ignore the look of relief that flashed over Squinty's face; saving the bastard from whatever Fujin had been planning was something that he'd have to chock up as an acceptable loss. And then he was moving, his feet carrying him across the street, fist already swinging towards Fujin's mocking smile. _Wait, she was smiling?_

Too late, Zell felt the pulse of magic wash over him; Fujin was already dancing out of the way, pinwheel in hand. Distracted, he spun around with a fierce scowl, looking for the culprit. Sure enough, behind him Raijin was there, twirling his staff as he came out of his casting crouch. A look of confusion was plastered over the big man's face. "Hey, why ain't the spell workin' oh him, ya know?" Raijin managed to ask before a wave of magic silenced him.

"That would be my fault," he heard Quistis reply smugly as the sharp crack of a whip resounded over the cobblestones. Zell grinned in response; that preemptive Reflect spell she had cast after pulling him aside had worked like a charm.

"RAIJIN!" Fujin roared as the staff dropped from the bigger man's meaty fingers. Already the tips of them were turning a pale shade of grey from the petrifaction spell. She was driven away from Zell by Quistis' skillful whip wielding and herded towards the center of the square, her eye darting furiously between them as they closed in. Still, their victory wasn't yet complete...

"Where's that bastard Almasy?" Zell asked Fujin bluntly, cracking his knuckles. "I can smell his stinkin' mug from here!"

Fujin's only reply was a smirk as Quistis suddenly barreled into his side; vaguely Zell heard the sharp retort of a gun behind them. "Look out!" she grit out needlessly as they rolled together across street. The ground where he had formerly stood was smoking where the bullet from Hyperion had hit.

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Chickenwuss," Seifer taunted as he strolled into the open, tapping his signature gunblade on his shoulder. Then he spun around and pointed the blade towards Zell in a clear challenge. "Wanna dance?"

"You better believe it," Zell ground out, forgetting everything else as he prepared to rush at the other man.

"Oh no," Quistis hissed sharply, scrambling quickly to her feet. "No more of that ridiculous testosterone posturing while I'm around," she snarled, her hands already forming into a complex set of casting seals. The Pain spell burst out of her hands and raced towards Seifer and Fujin with unerring accuracy. Unfortunately, Fujin's pinwheel was already flashing in the light as she swept her arms around in a counter-spell. Quistis' magic collided with a sizzle and a spectacular prism of light against Fujin's Reflect shield, momentarily blinding everyone. And then Zell felt his mouth dry as Quistis' own spell, which seemed unusually high-powered - _how many GFs was she packing anyway?!_ \- raced back towards them.

"Shit," he heard Quistis mutter as she forcefully recast their Reflect in record time, her hands moving more quickly than he had ever seen before. The spell slammed into their own barrier and ricocheted wildly off of it.

"FUCK!" Fujin's sharp curse echoed across the plaza as the pulsating spell careened out of control. Whatever power Quistis had put behind that magic was already monstrous enough; bouncing off of two reflect shields hadn't helped it gain any stability either. Zell didn't know much about magic; he had only managed to just barely scrape by Quistis' Magical Theory classes on his own. As he watched the undulating mass of spell energy twist overhead, however, he was certain of one thing - no Reflect barrier in the world would be able to stop it from hitting now.

With a high-pitched whine, the Pain spell split into its basic components and flew apart. Zell was already moving, desperately sprinting out of the way in the hopes of dodging the deadly streams of magic that were raining down over the entire Marketplace. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others scrambling to do the same. Squinty and Raijin, however, were not so lucky, both still frozen to their spots by Seifer's customized petrifaction spell. The hapless librarian let out a squeak as a Blind spell hit him, knocking the glasses clean off of his face. The exposed remainder of Raijin's skin that wasn't already grey began to turn a sickly hue of purple as he absorbed a stray Poison spell.

When the whistle of released magic finally died down, Zell rolled up to his feet and inspected himself cautiously. Everything still seemed to be intact, he noted with relief; he'd gotten lucky and managed to avoid the worst of it. But what about - "Quistis!" he yelled, whirling around to look for her.

Something pinged at his senses, and he ducked instinctively as a flash of silver came dangerously close to clipping off his patented hairstyle. Zell's guard was up instantly, his eyes narrowing as he bounced on the soles of his feet. "Seifer! I've been waiting for this, you bastard!" he snarled at the scarred blonde.

Who said nothing.

Zell waited, his eyebrows drawing together. Right about now was usually when Seifer made his first taunt; he never missed an opportunity to make fun of his opponents if he could help it, ever. Zell himself was more of a 'punch first, ask questions later' kind of guy, but he knew Seifer loved to ham it up. Which was why the other man's continued silence and slowly darkening scowl confused him. "What, after all this you got nothin' to say?" Zell finally spat out.

Seifer only grimaced in response, his scowl deepening.

And slowly, a grin of comprehension split Zell's face. It looked like Hyne did have a sense of humor after all. "You can't talk, can ya?" Zell said gleefully. "You were Silenced! Oh man, this is too great," Zell continued happily, relishing Seifer's increasingly dark countenance. "So, like, I can say anythin' I want, and you can't do nothin' about it." This revenge was going to be better than he thought!

Seifer rolled his eyes and slashed at Zell, who deftly blocked and parried the blow with a metal-plated glove.

"Well, since it looks like you can't shut me up, why don't I give you some advice, huh?" Zell grinned and flipped out of the way of another one of Seifer's wild slashes. "You really gotta lose that vest, man. It makes you look like Irvine. I mean, I know he's your hero an' all, but it's gotta stop, dude. He's already got Selphie, so just get him to sign a picture for ya or somethin'!"

Seifer's face twisted in disgust.

"Yeah, an' that coat you're wearin' has definitely seen better days," he added. "Looks like SOMEBODY'S been livin' in the dog house. Your Ma shoulda taught you how to sew." Zell trailed off, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he directed a particularly wicked smile towards the other blonde . "Oh, right. Sorry man, I totally forgot. You never even HAD a Ma, did ya?" He paused and shrugged his shoulders conspicuously. "I almost forgot you were a bastard for a sec. My bad," he sneered.

That last dig must have hit a little too hard, because Seifer suddenly pulled back from his attack, his face settling into a deadly mask of calm. Zell backed away warily; he felt the tiniest twinge of guilt for getting so caught up in the moment and letting his mouth slip up again. None of the old Orphanage gang had been gifted with Zell's luck when it came to their adopted families; it really was a low blow, even for someone as jaded as Seifer. Zell quickly squashed his feelings, though; Seifer HAD messed with his Ma. Adopted or not, Ma Dincht was still his _mother,_ and everyone _knew_ you didn't mess with those. "So now you know how I feel," he growled roughly. "Whatcha gonna do about it, huh?"

What Seifer was going to do suddenly became apparent as a dull red aura surrounded his body. Zell backed away rapidly, his eyes going wide. He had seen that glow once before; the last time that particular Limit occurred, Seifer's Zantetsuken Reverse had decimated Odin. Suddenly, Zell could almost hear his instructors' voices blaring like warning sirens in his ear. _"The first and most basic principle of any SeeD operation is teamwork. Never forget that!"_ With a partner, Seifer's Fire Cross was scary, but entirely survivable. Facing it on his own, however, was almost certain suicide. Zell knew he needed backup, and he needed it fast. And wasn't that was practically the whole reason Squall had let him go on this mission in the first place anyway? So he could learn to work better with Quistis?

_Quistis. Oh, shit._

Hastily, Zell tapped into an irate Diablos and threw out the first thing he could think of at Seifer. The Dark ability provided Seifer with just enough of a distraction for Zell to make a hasty escape from their personal battle. He sucked in his breath and gave himself another guilty mental kick as he found his partner.

From the way her eyes remained fixed in an unfocused stare, he could only assume Quistis had been hit by one of the stray Blind spells as well. Despite that, she was managing to hold her own admirably against Fujin, who apparently had also escaped from the magical fallout unscathed. Quistis was moving constantly, trying to make herself as difficult of a target for Fujin's pinwheel to hit despite her lack of vision and attempting to cast an Esuna all the while. Though it was working to some extent, there was just no way to make it a fair fight. Fujin was using a ranged weapon, and Quistis couldn't even begin to know _where_ to aim her whip. The moment she slowed down enough to cast, a carefully aimed pinwheel would flit around her like an annoying gnat, breaking her concentration. Already several thin lines had appeared across Quistis' cheeks, and Zell felt his pang of guilt quickly being overtaken by something much stronger. It was only less than an hour ago that he had wanted to run his thumbs across that same smooth, unblemished skin. He couldn't clearly explain why he felt a surge of annoyance towards Fujin; her attacks were certainly not lethal, even if they were troublesome. What Zell did know, however, was that he didn't like seeing Quistis' face being peppered with dozens of tiny cuts. Facial scarring was something Seifer and Squall were welcome to keep their monopoly on.

And then it happened; Fujin spun her pinwheel once before her face, gathering power into it, and Zell recognized the Limit as she let it fly. Fujin's Sai _never_ missed, and it always hurt like a bitch. It didn't really matter how many Guardian Forces Quistis had junctioned; when the glowing, magic-filled pinwheel hit her, she went down gracelessly, collapsing onto one knee and wheezing heavily. Already he could see Quistis reaching a trembling hand into her belt for a potion, but it wouldn't be enough. Fujin only had to do so much as sneeze and Quistis would be unconscious faster than he could say _Gesundheit._

And with Seifer ready to do a Fire Cross right behind him, Zell couldn't let that happen. Seeing Quistis brought to her knees, her face too pale and her eyes unfocused made something in his stomach tighten painfully. And while generally on principal he didn't like hitting girls, for Quistis Zell could make an exception.

Fujin's chin snapped back from the first punch as it landed on her jaw; she hadn't even seen him approach from her blind side. He didn't give her a chance to recover as the other fist connected with her stomach. The force of the blow lifted her entire body off the ground, only to meet it again rather painfully moments later as he spun a heel drop over her head. Fujin scrabbled to her feet, pinwheel forgotten as she wiped at her bleeding lip, but Zell pressed forward, cutting off her chance for escape. _They petrified my little brother,_ he grunted to himself as he sent a flurry of kicks in Fujin's direction. _They hot-dogged my house._ And, he thought grimly as he broke through Fujin's guard to slam his knee into her gut, _they hurt Quistis._ That was the final impetus he needed to launch into his finishing move, the uppercut sending Fujin airborne. The Different Beat he performed on her was particularly brutal, and when Fujin hit the ground seconds later, she was already unconscious.

By that time Quistis had already quaffed the restorative potion and was casting another spell. She blinked rapidly a few times, her eyes focusing first on Fujin's prone body, and then on Zell who was standing over it. She stood up slowly, still weak from Fujin's draining attack, her lips already forming into a question as her brows furrowed together in annoyance. He let out a quick huff of relief; she was obviously feeling well enough to be pissed off, and that was good enough for him. Zell didn't wait to hear what she had to say, no matter how much he knew he might have deserved it. There were more important things to think about - things like the heat licking at his back as he felt a blisteringly angry Seifer approaching them. Instead, he barreled into her, grabbing onto Quistis' arm and forcibly hauling her to her feet as he activated the ENC-NONE field. It wouldn't work, at least not completely, until they were out of Seifer's direct line of vision, but he was hoping it would confuse the other man at least long enough to allow for a clean getaway from his Fire Cross. There was no way Quistis would be able to stand one of those, not after eating Fujin's Sai.

That didn't stop her from trying, though.

Quistis growled under her breath and struggled to snatch her arm away from Zell as he dragged her behind the fountain and clapped a hand over her mouth. After a moment of indignation, she gave him a quick nod of understanding as she felt Diablos' magic blanketing them. She was still angry at Zell, first for completely ruining her plan _yet again_ by leaping into the fray, but moreover because of her miscalculation. She hadn't expected Fujin to throw out that reflect spell; the other woman wasn't nearly as competent a caster as she herself was. Then again, Fujin didn't need to be competent; the blind spell that had blasted through her defenses was fueled by Quistis' own enhanced power. _I really am my own worst enemy,_ Quistis thought wryly, watching as Seifer stormed around the Market Square, swearing loudly and slashing the air with his gunblade as he searched fruitlessly for them.

Seifer. He was going to get away again, she could tell now. Neither she nor Zell were in a position to apprehend him now, even if the revenge on Squinty had been worth it. And as much as she desired to leap out from their cover and bring the Balamb Bandits to an end once and for all, she recognized the angry red glow that was surrounding Seifer. The bitter taste of a missed opportunity, however, still lingered in her mouth. Squall was definitely not going to be happy with her; right about then Quistis determined to spend as much time in Balamb as possible before reporting back to Garden. Still, she had to admit as she peered over the edge of the fountain and almost directly into the third member of their team's slowly graying features, it was worth it if just to see Squinty suffer. He brought it on himself, Quistis thought in satisfaction as Seifer turned his attention to the hapless cadet. Hyne's Hot Sauce was a biological weapon, after all.

Zell's hand twitched against her face, and Quistis broke off her observation. She sent him another glare, trying to silently convey that it was no longer necessary for him to keep his hand clapped so tightly over her mouth. After a moment, Zell seemed to feel her stare boring into him and turned to look at her. His eyes widened, but to her surprise, rather than giving her his typical sheepish grin, his palm only loosened, hovering over her lips briefly before ghosting over the curve of her cheek. She felt a prick of pain, and realized he was tracing one of the cuts on her face, carefully wiping away small beads of blood with a look of intense concentration. His eyes were thankfully focused on his fingertips rather than her own; she felt a rapidly spiraling sense of confusion and misplacement that she was sure she couldn't hide.

What was happening to her? Had Fujin's attack completely robbed her of her senses? She wanted to smack Zell's fingers away from her face and coldly tell him that they were in the middle of a mission - a very dangerous one at that - and to stop goofing off. That she didn't think what he was doing was very amusing. At least, that's what she would have done, if she could have brought herself to move at all. His fingertips brushed lightly against her, and she couldn't control the blush that heated her skin. Zell froze, his eyes still fixed on her rapidly pinking cheeks with a look of fascination as his lips parted in a silent exhale of surprise.

Bruised, squatting behind a ruined fountain and covered only by the cloaking magic of a GF as an angry Seifer tore up the Market Square searching for them, Quistis could honestly say this was the most romantic moment of her life. A sudden sense of panic filled her at that thought; what if Rinoa and Selphie had been right all this time? Was this, this heady, addictive, irritating _confusion,_ what they had been trying to show her with all of those miserable dates all along? If so, she was beginning to get an idea of what she had been missing out on. But still - something was definitely wrong about the whole situation. Quistis wasn't too proud to admit that perhaps romance did have its good points - but not now, not here, and most certainly not with _Zell Dincht,_ of all people. And oh _Hyne,_ was he leaning in? Why couldn't she bring herself to stop him? Quistis wondered if she had waited for too long, made herself so starved for any scrap of real attention that she'd willingly seek companionship with anyone who gave it to her, even someone as unlikely as Zell. Maybe she was lucky that he was there to stop her before she did something abysmally desperate and stupid, like throwing herself at Seifer. Only, Zell didn't seem to be _stopping_ anything. And he was leaning in.

Seifer's loud curse filtered through the moment, his oath punctuated by the sound of shattering rock as his gunblade slashed at Zell's mangled statue, relieving it of its arms. Rubble and stone dust scattered over their heads. As Zell came out of his trance, he pulled away from Quistis as though he had been burned.

"Sorry," he mouthed, hiding his rapidly reddening face as he shifted not-so-subtly away from her.

Quistis felt her own face turning a shade to match his, and silently groaned. What in Shiva's name had just happened? Had she just almost kissed Zell Dincht in the middle of the Balamb Marketplace? In the presence of Seifer, Raijin, Fujin and Squinty? Well... three out of four were unconscious and the third couldn't find them, so at least there would be no witnesses. Still, the principle of the whole thing left her feeling unsettled and embarrassed. What was she _thinking?_ This was Zell. Zell 'pork product' Dincht. He had been chasing after that library assistant for as long as she could remember; he was hardly her idea of an ideal friend, let alone _boy_ friend.

It must be the stress of the mission, she concluded. Anyone would lose their minds after having to deal with Seifer for extended periods of time. Squall was living proof of that. She simply had to get her bearings back - a little more healing, perhaps, and logic would return. There would be no more breathless moments, no more constricting confusion and near-kisses with Zell Dincht in her future, not if she had anything to say about it. She gave herself a firm mental nod; this was a mission, and their first priority was escaping from the scene of the crime. Questions, doubt and recrimination could come later, they had business to take care of first. Quistis turned to tell Zell that -

\- and felt her thoughts scatter as she felt his arm circle over her back and pull her in close.

"We're gonna have to move fast," Zell whispered urgently. "We gotta circle around and stay out of his direct line of sight, or he might spot us."

Wordlessly, Quistis allowed Zell to lead her in a tight circle around the fountain, her trust in him implicit and almost surprising. Zell kept his arm over her shoulder and moved silently; his martial arts training had taught him where and how to step for both strength and stealth, although Zell preferred the former to the latter. They took a few more steps, Zell leading Quistis through the bushes as Seifer hacked dangerously at the greenery across the way -

"Wait," Quistis hissed. She'd spotted a boot protruding from a nearby bush. Zell followed his gesture, and took a few careful steps; he and Quistis crouched down in the bushes over Fujin's prone body.

Quistis gave Fujin a preliminary once-over; the woman had taken a fierce pummeling, but seemed to be breathing regularly. Instinctively, she raised her hand to cast a Scan, only to be stopped mid-gesture as Zell grabbed her wrist and shook his head. Quistis froze; Zell was right, they couldn't risk any magic-casting while Seifer was still roaming the scene with that Limit Break aura around him. Especially the kind of Scan she'd cast right now, backed by five GFs (all of whom were a little cranky at not being allowed to come out and play).

She looked down at Fujin. She'd gained more than a little respect for the woman today; Fujin would've made a powerful SeeD, had she and Raijin continued at Garden. Quistis felt all her muscles tense at the memory of Fujin's Sai attack. There was no way she was strong enough to face Seifer - not without a serious dose of Curaga , which would take time and give their position away. Zell might have enough energy left to carry Fujin back to Garden, though.

She glanced at Zell, who dropped her arm as if it had burned him and flushed bright red again. Rolling her eyes, she gestured at Fujin's unconscious form, and then mimicked picking the woman up. Zell's face lit up with determination, and he braced himself, scooping Fujin up off the ground.

His face wrenched with the effort, turning even redder. Maintaining this type of ENC-None field was difficult on its own; doing it while extending the field to cover three people was even harder. Maintaining the field over three people while carrying one of them was nigh impossible. Zell felt his strength sapping by the second as the ENC-None field began to fail. He mentally urged the Brothers to give Diablos a hand as he shifted Fujin's weight around slightly and prepared to stand up and make a run for it.

He felt a soft hand come to rest on his shoulder, and suddenly the field blazed forth in full force. For a moment Zell's field of vision blurred dizzily, and he felt Quistis' GFs - _Hyne, how many of them were there?_ \- reaching out to power his own. The ENC-None field wrapped around the three of them solidly. He felt Quistis lay her other hand on his upper arm, guiding him upright as he balanced Fujin's weight. Her hands were still shaky - whether from the battle, or from the amount of magical conductivity pulsing through her veins, Zell wasn't sure - but her touch alone gave him strength, and together they managed to make their way out of the square.

**.x.x.x.**

_Swish!_ Hyperion flew through the air as Seifer stabbed at nothing in his anger. His voice was gone - _swish!_ \- his posse had gotten their collective butts kicked - swish! - and worst of all, the Instructor and the Chickenwuss had gotten away before he could unleash No Mercy. All in all, their prank had been a bust. How in the _world_ had Dincht and Trepe escaped without a trace? And where was Fujin?

An unblemished statue caught his eye, and Seifer raised Hyperion with a devilish grin - and then promptly dropped it as he realized the statue was a now-terrified Raijin. He fumbled through his pockets hastily - turning out three packs of cigarettes, two packs of matches, a couple coupons for hand lotion, a page torn from a porno mag, and two granola bars - finally finding the lone Remedy he carried. Seifer broke the vial over Raijin's head, watching bemusedly as the purple haze of Poison and grey tinge of Break dripped off of his large friend.

Raijin rubbed the back of his neck, obviously relieved. "I knew we shouldn't have gone in there, ya know?"

Seifer glared at him, gesturing wildly at his own throat.

"Oh, sorry, boss!" Raijin turned out his own pockets - napkins, an empty bottle of Hyne's Hot Sauce, three granola bars, some Gyshal Greens - _what in the world was Raijin doing with those?_ Seifer thought momentarily. Then the Echo Screen broke at his feet, and he coughed as he felt the magic in his throat dissipate.

The first words out of Seifer's mouth were, "Stupid little fuckers."

Raijin laughed a little as he stretched the kinks out of his back; Seifer watched, mildly appalled, as a tiny rain of dust and pebbles tumbled to the ground. "Hey, boss, where's Fujin?"

"Don't know," Seifer said, strapping Hyperion onto his back. "Let's spread out and look."

A short walk through the bushes turned up nothing: no Fujin, no cowering Quistis and Zell, not even a trail of hot dogs to follow. Seifer kicked at a trailing plant. They must have found Fujin and taken her hostage. Where in the hell could they be? If they'd run, he would've seen, right?

"Boss!" Raijin called from the middle of the square. "Look what I found."

The small statue hadn't moved from the second the spell hit. Granted, that was because he'd been Stopped, Slowed, Silenced and hit with Break all at the same time, but he certainly hadn't tried to break free. He hadn't even blinked.

"Hey, look," Seifer said with an evil grin, "it's the squinty-eyed kid from the library."

"Think he knows where they took Fuu?" Raijin cracked his knuckles eagerly and Seifer could see the boy's face (the only part of him not tinted grey) whiten in panic.

"Got another Echo Screen?" Seifer asked. "Let's see."

Raijin tossed the item at Squinty, who shook his head strangely and coughed.

"Quis?" His voice was ragged and thick through the residual magic. "Instructor Trepe, I can't see... are you there?"

Seifer chuckled. "I don't think so," he said to the boy. "They seem to have left you."

"I -" Squinty stammered with panic for a moment before reassuring himself. "Quis wouldn't leave me here. They're around here somewhere, and when they find you..."

"What?" Seifer laughed. "You're gonna take revenge on me, are you, library boy?" He bent closer, so that his cigarette-tainted breath passed across Squinty's blind face. "If anyone's taking revenge, it's me."

Squinty let out an undignified squeal that sounded like _Meep!_ and said bravely, "Please don't touch me."

"Ri-i-i-ight," Seifer drawled. "We won't hurt you at all. As long as you tell us what Trepe and Dincht did with our friend."

"What do you mean?" Squinty's voice filled with panic. "They're really not here?"

Seifer burst out laughing. Raijin joined him with a loud guffaw.

Squinty felt himself getting angry. The humiliation he'd faced on this mission was absolutely ridiculous - for his Quis to leave him as a statue - the look on Dincht's face - this was completely _unfair!_ He worked in the Library! "Your friend is only getting what she deserves," Squinty retorted. "They'll bring her to justice back at Garden, you'll see."

"Justice for what?" Seifer snorted. "And how? We're the Disciplinary Committee."

All of the fire left Squinty in a rush, and he was left with only terror and the unmistakable urge to wet his pants. "The ...the Disciplinary Committee?"

Raijin tapped his staff on the ground with a menacing _thud._ "The one and only, library boy."

"I don't know where they went," Squinty said, all in a sudden rush. "Please don't hurt me. I know that Quis - Instructor Trepe - was carrying a lot of GF power, so probably they used some GF ability and escaped the battle. I don't know where your friend is! Probably back at Garden with Instructor Trepe and Dincht!"

"You library types," Seifer said with scorn. "You're all alike. Don't any of you have any balls?" Raijin sniffed in agreement.

Squinty said nothing. He'd decided that in this case discretion was the better part of valor. And by 'discretion' he certainly meant 'agreeing with everything Seifer Almasy said and hoping to come out of this with both legs.'

"The hell was a Library Committee member doing here anyway?" Seifer asked. "I didn't think they let your type out of Garden."

"I wasn't really a part of this mission," Squinty added, babbling. "Really. I didn't do anything. I wasn't even involved. It's not my fault!"

"Sure," Seifer said. "Raijin, this moron's starting to babble, it's hurtin' my ears. What do you say we turn him around a bit and then head out to get Fujin back?"

"I'm on it, boss," Raijin said, laughing as he pried Squinty's stone feet from the ground.

**.x.x.x.**

"So, what now?"

Fujin's prone body - now damped with a Sleep spell to prevent her from waking - lay propped up along the outside wall of the Balamb Bounty. Quistis and Zell were perched behind it, watching the town square with interest. Seifer and Raijin finally appeared to be leaving the square.

Quistis glanced at Zell. He looked bruised and beat-up, but was still bouncing with tense energy. Quistis knew he'd fight until he dropped; this was mostly what worried her. They had one of the Bandits in custody, which was a good thing, because they needed something to appease Squall with before he stripped them both of their ranks. For the second time, she and Zell were going to have to admit - at least partial - defeat. _At least we managed to work together this time,_ Quistis thought wryly, studying the look on Zell's face. A familiar wave of intense feeling swept through her, and she blushed, turning away. She must be more embarrassed by that not-a-kiss than she'd thought.

"We head back and get Squinty," she said decisively.

"What?" Zell turned to give her a disbelieving glare. "We can just leave him there," he said sullenly. "Bastard deserves what he got." _Deserves it for flirting with you,_ he thought angrily.

"Yes," Quistis replied crisply, "and he deserves the rest of what he's going to get, too." She shook her head, her eyes narrowed. "He and I are going to see Squall, and we're going to have a little ... talk ... about this mission."

Zell didn't necessarily want to think about all the ways that Quistis could turn the blame of the mission's failure on to Squinty. Mainly, he was considering the strong feeling of disappointment in his gut. "Why don't I get to turn Squinty in too?" he asked, trying not to sulk.

"Because," Quistis said, with an unfamiliar light in her eyes that Zell actually thought might be kindness, "you're going to go see your mother."

Zell's entire face lit up with joy. "Really?" He punched the air once in victory. "Alright!" Then he paused in thought. "Quisty, can't you come too?"

Quistis looked thoughtful. "I don't know whether Martin can get Fujin back to Garden all by himself," she said slowly. "I really don't think I can."

"C'mon, Quisty! Ma makes the best dinners ever! Besides," he added, "what if I need your help cleanin' off the house?" Zell wasn't quite sure why it was suddenly so important for him to take Quistis Trepe to his mother's house. All he knew was that the thought of Quistis and Squinty spending more time together - even bad, evil, mad-at-each-other time - made him furious.

Quistis thought about it herself. Frankly, she was in no hurry to get back to Squall and tell him that Seifer had escaped again, and she was more than willing to let Squinty take the blame as his final punishment. If they could get Fujin into the buggy, Martin could take their prisoner back himself. She and Zell deserved a little bit of vacation time for hard work done anyway, didn't they?

"Alright," she conceded. "Let's go."

**.x.x.x.**

Squinty looked up - uselessly - as the click of crisp, stern high-heeled boots echoed across the courtyard. A blast of high-powered magic hit him in the face, and he blinked his eyes as the vision slowly returned to them. Not that it really did him any good without his glasses, but at least he could see vague blurs in front of him.

One of the blurs was dressed in muted peach. "Martin DeBrye," it spat out.

"Quis?" His voice was wavering with relief. "Is that you, honey? Have you seen my glasses?"

"You will address me as Instructor Trepe," she replied coldly. "The mission is over. Our terms of familiarity have also ended."

Squinty winced. "In - Instructor Trepe," he stammered. "Do you - have you seen my glasses?"

He heard the clack of the cold boots on the stone again before gloved fingers jammed something down on his face. His frames were bent badly, and one entire lens was missing. The other was splintered with cracks. Around the spider web of broken glass Squinty's vision focused on a very, very angry-looking Instructor Trepe; behind her was Zell, red-faced and carrying what looked to be an unconscious girl.

"Cadet DeBrye!" Quistis' voice snapped like her whip. "Do you have any idea what has happened here?"

"No," Squinty whimpered. He couldn't help it. He'd just now realized - with the help of his glasses - that Almasy and his friend had posed him directly in front of the statue of Dincht. His face was inches away from a stone replica of the martial artist's crotch. "I have no idea."

"What happened," Quistis continued, taking a couple firm steps towards the remains of the fountain, "is that a SeeD cadet unfit for combat duty entered the field completely unprepared."

"But Quis - Instructor," Squinty corrected himself hastily. If his blurry vision was right, Dincht appeared to be laughing.

"There are no excuses in the field of combat!" Quistis roared suddenly. "Where was your weapon, cadet? Where were your Class A GFs ? What in the world did you think to use to defend yourself and your teammates?" She stalked back towards him. "Did you think our target would be distracted by the snazzy bars on your uniform alone?"

"But I - you said to Junction - I've only got the Chocobo," Squinty babbled, trying to defend himself in the face of his beloved teacher. "What did you expect me to use?"

Quistis sighed. "Your brain, cadet," she said, the disappointment audible in her voice. "I thought you were supposed to be one of the _smart_ ones."

Now he was _definitely_ sure that Dincht was laughing behind him. Squinty flushed with shame as failure flooded him. "I - but - Instructor?"

Quistis closed her eyes and sketched a familiar rune in the air; the tingling light of Esuna trickled down over him. Squinty straightened himself slowly, brushing bits of gravel and rubble from his formerly-pristine uniform. Shamed, he kept his eyes on the ground.

"You will take our hostage back to Balamb Garden," Quistis dictated, "using the buggy. You will turn her over to Commander Leonhart himself. Do you understand, cadet?" In her voice was so much anger and derision - and, though Squinty would never know it, all the pent-up rage from the Hyne's Hot Sauce incident - that only a fool would've contradicted her. Squinty was no fool.

"Of course, Instructor," he said softly, admitting defeat. Behind him, he could still hear Dincht laughing.


	10. In Which Two Blondes Attempt Housekeeping

When he had mentioned needing her help to clean up, Quistis hadn't really thought that he had been serious. The pleading look which Zell was fixing her under, however, was telling her otherwise. A few brave flies buzzed around them, silencing abruptly when they came too close to the offending object that had once been the Dincht household before dropping straight out of the air.  
  
"C'mon, Quisty, _please?_ "  
  
Quistis sighed and returned her gaze back to the house. The photographs had been bad enough, but now that she was actually standing before the mutilated house, it truly was impressive. In a disturbing food-service industry kind of way. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.  
  
"I think they actually used Hyne's Hot Sauce to do this." Leaning in, she took a shallow whiff of the sticky orange fluid that had caramelized mid-drip off of the roof, then drew back immediately with a wince. "It's real," she added decisively, prodding delicately at her offended nose. "I can see Raijin's hand at work here," she added, eyeing the lurid green garbage bags hanging out of one window that had been artfully crinkled to look like lettuce.  
  
"Yeah, that guy loves hot dogs almost as much as me," Zell laughed in response. Privately, Quistis was pleased to see that the previous tension from the Bandit's assault on his family was almost completely gone. Capturing Fujin and watching Squinty getting his due probably had a little to do with his unusually good mood. A small part of her wondered if their brief exchange behind the fountain might have contributed as well, but she quickly and uneasily squashed it, turning her eyes back towards the source of their current problem. Having strange, twitchy feelings for Zell was one thing. Agreeing to help him clean up this... mess ... was another thing completely. A thing which, frankly, wasn't going to happen.  
  
"Absolutely not," she said, reinforcing the statement with a glare when Zell tried his best puppy-eyed look on her. He still hadn't figured out that those never worked.  
  
"Aww, man..." Zell whined, kicking at the ground in defeat, and Quistis felt a twinge of pity for him. So maybe they did work, after all. That, or she was going soft.  
  
"Zell, why don't you go inside and try to find some supplies? I'll see what I can do from out here," she told him, taking another step back to survey the house critically.  
  
Zell's head whipped up in surprise. "You mean it, Quisty? Alright!" A fist pumped into the air, and then he was charging for the front door. The caramelized hot sauce made a sticky glue which required the use of his shoulder before it would even budge. His third attempt to enter the house was successful, the door suddenly swinging open and sending Zell flying inwards. A loud crash was heard, followed immediately by a thump. And finally, a muffled shout. "It's okay! I'm alright!"  
  
Quistis dropped her head into the palm of her hand, partly in exasperation and partly to mask the giggle that was threatening to erupt. _Oh dear,_ she thought to herself when the fit of mirth passed. She really was in trouble now - when had she started viewing Zell's antics as _cute_ rather than _annoying?_ With a resigned sigh, Quistis chose to let go of her inner debate and focus on something more mundane. She eyed the bright orange conglomeration on Zell's house and immediately rethought her assessment. There really was nothing _mundane_ about a house being paper-machèd to look like a giant hotdog.  
  
Thinking, she took a couple steps towards the house. The smell of Hyne's Hot Sauce was pungent even from this distance; she felt her insides start to churn as her stomach violently reminded her of her allergy. She'd have to be careful here - and maybe Junctioning some Esunas would help. Yes, Esuna. Zell still had a bunch from their previous experience with Hyne's Hot Sauce; he could probably help her out. Somehow the Esunas felt strangely appealing to Quistis. She bit her lip in anticipation, stepping away from the reeking mess of the house.  
  
Something came barreling out the front door, something cloaked in white and trailing long streamers behind it. Quistis braced herself and instinctively brought her hands up to cast, just in case. It looked like some sort of misshapen mummy-monster; as it stalked towards her, she noticed it had a bucket in one hand and a spray bottle in the other...  
  
"Uh, Quisty?" Zell's voice was muffled, but clearly recognizable. "D'you think you can gimmie a hand here?"  
  
Quistis did a concerned double-take and realized that Zell had somehow managed to wrap a roll of paper towels around himself. "You're as bad as the Bandits themselves, Zell," she chastised as she patiently unwrapped the paper towels from Zell's body.  
  
His face emerged, bright red but grinning. "There was this spider, see," he explained sheepishly. "Not just any spider, either. I'm tellin' ya, this was the mother of all spiders! It jumped, like, right on my hand! So I was tryin' to hit it with the roll of paper towels, an' -" His flailing gestures demonstrated to Quistis exactly how he had managed to cover himself in paper products.  
  
"But look!" He held up the bucket and the small spray bottle triumphantly. "It's E-Z-Wipe!"  
  
Secretly, Quistis wasn't sure whether the tiny bucket and the few remaining drops of E-Z-Wipe were going to do anything other than smear the mess around a little. She wasn't even sure if Garden's Industrial Strength Window Cleaner could put a dent in the thick syrup that was covering the Dincht household. But she had other things on her mind. "Okay, Zell," she agreed placidly. "But there's something we have to take care of first. I need you."  
  
 _Say what?_ Zell turned around, his face flushing despite himself. "Q-Quisty? But, uh, but I thought - you know - you... I mean, me... I mean, we, uh... y'know, that I didn't have anythin' you wanted -"  
  
Quistis tilted her head and looked at him strangely, and Zell shut himself up without any prompting from her.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. There's something you have that would help me tackle the house safely," she explained, and Zell let out the breath he had been holding with a huge whoosh of mixed feelings. Relief, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to fend off a determined Quistis if she had really wanted him. She did have that whip, after all. Disappointment, because he wasn't entirely sure he'd _want_ to fend off a determined Quistis.  
  
"Wha, do you want gloves or somethin'?" he covered in a way that he hoped was subtle. "I didn't find any of those..."  
  
She shook her head primly. "I need your Esunas. And for Shiva's sake, you don't need to shout about it," she added with a small wince. "I'll draw them from you this time, so stop tensing up and relax."  
  
Oh. So she only wanted to _junction_ with him. Well, that was okay, right? It was perfectly innocent, Zell reminded himself. Lots of SeeDs did it all the time. He adamantly refused to dwell on the images that kept on coming to mind when he phrased it that way. No matter how appealing they might be - _waitaminute, my Esunas?_ "Whaddaya mean?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Quistis sighed. "I'm allergic to your house right now," she told him patiently. "If I Junctioned those Esunas to my health, there's a chance I'd be able to overcome the allergy to help you clean."  
  
Zell's eyes narrowed slightly. "Quisty, I don't think that's a real good idea right now. I dunno if you can handle any more Esunas so soon after... well... you know," he trailed off. His mind presented him with an image of Quistis, her eyes sparkling with the magic-high - smiling, slightly flushed, looking deep into his eyes... "Nope, not a good idea at all," Zell added, reddening slightly. _For either of us.  
  
_ "It's the only practical way I'll be able to help you," Quistis pointed out. She extended one long gloved arm, unsnapping the buckle at her shoulder and pulling back the leather sleeve to reveal the soft, creamy skin underneath. "Give."  
  
Zell's eyes were drawn like magnets to the pale, unexpectedly vulnerable underside of her arm. Once he'd heard Irvine say that the inner juncture of an arm was one of those 'sweet spots' that could drive any girl wild. And Irvine _was_ always rubbing his hands up and down Selphie's exposed arms, especially when she was mad at him. For a moment Zell wondered if he could test Irvine's theory for himself. Then he caught the hand that was automatically lifting to meet her arm rather clumsily with his other and forced it back down by his side. As much as Zell wanted to run his fingers along that skin right now - where did THAT thought come from? - even he could see the eager look on Quistis' face. AMAS occasionally led to a temporary magic craving - and in worse cases, an actual addiction. "No way, Quisty," he said finally. "It ain't good for you."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Her eyes were bright with sudden anger. "What makes you think you know what's better for me than I do? Give me the Esunas, Zell, I don't have nearly enough."  
  
Uh-oh. She was using her _Commanding Officer_ voice on him now. Having been on the receiving end of all stages of Quistis' anger at one point in time or the other, he could tell that this was approximately three steps away from what was henceforth to be referred to as her _Squinty_ tone. But... he didn't bust his chops protecting her in the Marketplace just so she could lay herself low with a newfound magic dependency. Zell shook his head. Quistis was scary enough on her own; a magic-addicted, ragingly drunk Quistis wasn't exactly what he wanted to bring home to his Ma. "Quisty, why don't ya just ... sit here and keep me company while I clean the house, okay?"  
  
Quistis eyed the giant hot-dog with disdain. "There is absolutely no way you're going to be able to clean this by yourself," she mused. "You don't even have enough water to..." An idea struck her. Her eyes fluttered shut; no, of course, this one time she wouldn't have any. And there was probably not a chance in hell that Zell had any Auras, Junctioned or not. Well, then, they'd have to do this the old-fashioned way.  
  
She wheeled around. "Zell, I need you to hit me."  
  
Zell dropped the bucket in alarm. "What the hell?"  
  
"Just - do it." She spread her arms, steeling herself. "Hit me."  
  
"No!" Zell took a step back. "I'm not gonna hit you! What's wrong with you, Quisty?" Apparently the AMAS had gone even farther than he'd realized.  
  
"Come on, Zell," Quistis snapped, her voice even angrier. "I can't touch your house, but if I can reach my Limit, I can help you that way."  
  
Zell shook his head adamantly. "No way am I gonna punch you, Quistis."  
  
She clenched her fists in anger. "I'm so close already! Just do it," she hissed.  
  
"I -" The look on Quistis' face was so intense that Zell paused. "Are you sure?"  
  
"If you don't hit me," Quistis threatened, "I'll cast on myself."  
  
Remembering that Quistis was currently over-Junctioned with GFs and liable to do herself a real injury, Zell immediately gave in. "Alright, I'll do it!" he said quickly. "You're the boss." He smacked one fist into the other and cracked his neck, trying to work up the gumption to do what she had asked. Quistis was looking increasingly annoyed at the wait, so finally he stomped over towards her and took a deep breath. Then, swallowing thickly, he reached an arm out and thumped her soundly on the back with an open palm.  
  
Quistis lurched forward a bit and then whirled around, her eyes blazing. "I said hit me, Zell, not pat me on the back like one of your beer buddies!"  
  
"Oh, c'mon, that counted!" Zell immediately protested, scowling at Quistis angrily. It was true. She hadn't said to hit her hard. It _totally_ counted.  
  
Quistis stared at him for a few moments coolly, her eyes narrowing. Then, quickly, before he had time to react, her hand snaked out and caught him by the ear.  
  
"I'm not letting go until you punch me properly," she said primly.  
  
"No wa- OWWWW!" Zell howled as the uncomfortably tight grip on his ear became a distinctly painful pull. "OW! OWW! ALRIGHT, LEMMIE GO ALREADY!" he wailed, flailing blindly as Quistis pulled him around in a circle.  
  
"Not until you do it," Quistis repeated firmly, the steel back in her voice.  
  
Zell did the only thing he could think of - which was pretty difficult, considering the throbbing pain on the side of his head that was eroding his ability to form a coherent thought at all. He sunk his fist into her stomach.  
  
Quistis released his ear and bent double with an audible 'Oof!' Zell drew his arm away hastily; he'd tried to be gentle about it, since she was already injured and all. But moments later her head snapped back up, and a familiar blue-gold glow surrounded her body.  
  
Zell would never, ever get used to seeing Quistis cast Blue Magic. Her eyes gleamed darkly, pupils dilating until they swallowed the crystal blue of her iris completely, like some sort of monster from an Estharian horror-flick. She took two steps towards the house, opened her mouth and _belched_ water. Zell stared in amazement as the prim and proper Quistis Trepe, glowing like a fiend, vomited a constant stream of bubbly water all over his hot-dog-shaped home. _Aqua Breath._ The name floated up from somewhere in the back of his mind; the rest of his mind was riveted on the woman in front of him, soaking his house in thick, blue-tinted liquid.  
  
The flow died out. Quistis sagged, breathing heavily. She burped a bubble.  
  
"That was _awesome,_ " said Zell.  
  
Quistis looked up, an uncertain smile threatening to break through her weary face. "You really think so?" she murmured, pushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen loose. Zell met her eyes, and just like that the air was suddenly thick with that same unspoken tension from before.  
  
"That was _disgusting,_ " a high-pitched voice broke in. "Ma, Zell's girlfriend spit water all over our house!"  
  
"Girlfriend?" answered an older, distinctly familiar voice.  
  
Almost instinctively, Zell and Quistis leapt away from each other - which was fairly ridiculous, since they weren't even touching to begin with. "She's not my girlfriend!" Zell blustered immediately, his face doing its best impression of an overripe tomato. Quistis, for her part, wasn't doing much better; color was suffusing her entire face, and she coughed discreetly into one hand - before hurriedly moving to re-cover her exposed arm. They couldn't have looked more guilty if they had tried.  
  
And that brought a huge smile to Ma Dincht's face. One which dropped as the little rascal beside her decided to add his opinion. Both of her sons had a tendency to talk entirely too much for their own good, she thought to herself with a good-humored mental groan.  
  
"Yeah... weren't you sayin' just last week about how worried you were that big bro was never gonna get himself a girl?"  
  
"Hey, ya little runt -" Zell cut himself off abruptly, giving his mother a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. "- rascal," he fudged. Then he scowled at his brother, who had run up to him eagerly, trapping the younger boy in a headlock and ruffling his hair mercilessly. "What's that about me not gettin' a girlfriend, huh?" he yelled.  
  
Quistis watched, amused, as Zell's brother squirmed uncomfortably in the hold, laughing all the while.  
"Well, ya ARE a big ol' chickenwuss!" the boy managed to grunt out.  
  
"What was that!" Zell bellowed, tackling his brother to the ground. Their messy scuffle broke apart abruptly as Ma Dincht approached them.  
  
"Zell, let your brother go this instant. Or do you mean to say an important SeeD like yourself doesn't even have the time to greet his own mother anymore?" she asked.  
  
"Aww, Ma," Zell mumbled, cowed. That lasted for about all of two seconds, and then he was grinning maniacally once more and crushing his mother in a bear hug. "I missed ya! Those bastards didn't hurt you, did they?"  
  
"Zell! The groceries!" Ma Dincht managed to gasp out, and Zell quickly released her from his tight hold. He'd always been a strong boy, but after the war it often seemed he didn't know his own strength. Fortunately, he hadn't managed to break the eggs this time. She shifted the bags in her arms and peered over Zell's shoulder at Quistis. "So good to see you again, dear. What brings you two here?"  
  
"Oh... we were just stopping by to say hello, perhaps see if we could help," Quistis said politely. "Speaking of which - do you need a hand with those bags?"  
  
"Oh! Right!" Zell yelled, snatching the bags out of his mother's arms. "Hey, you help Ma out too, squirt!" He tossed one of them at his little brother, who caught the parcel with an alarming accuracy that indicated that Zell would not be the only martial artist the Dincht household would produce. The display didn't, however, save the eggs, which landed with an audible splat on the sidewalk.  
  
Ma Dincht sighed heavily; the only good news was that the mess was hardly noticeable, what with the dripping ichor that was now surrounding her very soggy house. "Well, there goes my omelet," she mumbled. Then she laughed to herself. "It's a small price to pay to see you again, honey. You should come home more often!"  
  
"Aww," Zell mumbled, flushing as he shouldered open the door and tromped inside. Zell's boisterous brother hurried in after him, and Ma Dincht clucked her tongue and shook her head in amusement. "Those boys," she muttered to herself. She paused at the threshold of the doorway and turned around, giving Quistis a concerned smile. "Is everything alright, sweetie?"  
  
Startled, Quistis looked away from the doorway and focused on Ma Dincht's kindly features. She had been so caught up in watching the Dincht family interact that she had forgotten herself. Was this what Zell had grown up knowing? It was no wonder he was so loud and self-confident; he was surrounded by people who loved him, and he obviously felt the same way about them. She had felt a pang of jealousy watching them, an unfamiliar loss for something that she herself had never known. What would it have been like, to be adopted by someone like Ma Dincht? Would she have grown up to be the same focused, over-achieving young woman she was today? She wasn't entirely sure - but Quistis had spent her entire life relying on no one but herself. She had always pushed herself to the limits, using her work to reach for commendations and recognition to fill what she now recognized to be the gaping emotional void in her own life. Her new awareness of Zell had cracked open the door to that realization; watching him with his family flung it wide open, and she was completely unprepared for what she found.  
  
Suddenly, reaching for that promotion to Head Instructor seemed a lot less appealing than it had previously. Even if she grabbed it now, she knew that juggling schedules and paperwork wouldn't fill the hollow she had unearthed. Maybe Zell wasn't the buffoon she had always thought him to be; he had grown up knowing happiness, and brought it with him in spades to Garden. He was overflowing with optimism and the naive belief that everyone else was just like him. It was a credit to him, she realized with a shock, that not even the Sorceress War had managed to dampen that enthusiasm. It also made him the laughing stock of most other SeeDs; now, however, Quistis felt like she was the foolish one. She was the cold mercenary, the outsider who didn't belong. Zell wasn't an embarrassing blot in Garden's military history; it was Garden itself which was the embarrassing blemish of Balamb. _She_ was the one who didn't belong _here.  
  
_ "Quistis," Ma Dincht repeated softly, as if she could sense Quistis' hesitation. Perhaps she could; Ma Dincht seemed to come with a built-in mothering radar that surpassed any of Garden's own surveillance equipment. The corners of the older woman's eyes crinkled as she graced Quistis with a warm smile. "Won't you come in? It's been much too long."  
  
Quistis swallowed thickly, blinking away the suspicious brightness in her eyes. She felt uncertain and awkward, and fumbled for her usual grace and poise. "I- ah... I don't know that I should..."  
  
"Please," Ma Dincht interrupted, leaving the doorway to actually grab Quistis' arm and gently guide her towards the door. "I insist. Besides, I'm sure it would make Zell happy if you'd stay for a while."  
  
"I-" Zell. An image of Zell's excited face, begging her to drop Fujin and come visit the Dinchts, floated through her mind. As much as she didn't deserve it, Zell had been willing and eager to share this family with her. Quistis sighed. "Thank you," she said instead, letting Ma Dincht lead her through the door.  
  
Quistis paused as a large drop of water splashed itself off her nose. "Oh," Ma Dincht sighed in resignation, reaching out with a ready kerchief to blot at Quistis' face. "That's my Zell - always trying to help. Whether or not he actually succeeds at it, well now..." she trailed off, gently daubing the cloth over Quistis' cheeks. "Whatever happened to your face?" she asked, a small frown slowly surfacing as she studied the multitude of shallow cuts.  
  
"Oh, ouch!" Quistis hissed, instinctively swatting the handkerchief away as her cheeks began to sting. Ma Dincht clucked her tongue noisily and gave Quistis a stern look. Looking appropriately cowed, Quistis lowered her hand and waited for Ma to finish with her ministrations. "Well, actually, we were on a mission," she explained. "We were looking for the people responsible for doing this to your house. This," Quistis gestured vaguely at herself, automatically passing a light Cure across her face as she spoke, "was the result of our last meeting."  
  
"The mayor really should be doing something about those Balamb Bandits," Ma Dincht scolded sternly, and Quistis flinched in shame. "Those poor children, forcing them to live like animals in that abandoned fishing shack!" Ma continued obliviously. "It's no wonder they're making such a fuss."  
  
That got her attention. "You already _knew_ it was Seifer who did this?" Quistis blurted out in surprise.  
  
Ma shook her head and folded her arms together. "Of course," she said reasonably. "I do wish he'd keep my other boy out of it, though. No matter how badly that Seifer wants to see my Zell, he shouldn't get his attention by bullying his siblings!" She sighed heavily. "I remember how Zell always used to talk about his friend when we first picked him up from the Orphanage. Seifer this, Seifer that... we could tell our little boy really missed him. I only wish we could've afforded to adopt both of them."  
  
Coughing to stifle her choke, Quistis shook her head. "I wouldn't quite call what they had friendship," she said uncertainly.  
  
"Nonsense, sweetie pie. Anyone could tell those two were like brothers! Broke my heart to tear them apart like that," Ma added with a note of regret. "And now look at what happened. If that charlatan Daggett insists on treating those children like criminals, what else can they do?"  
  
Quistis' mouth flapped open and closed silently as she scrabbled for an explanation. Good Shiva, how on earth could Ma Dincht manage to make her feel guilty for trying to apprehend Seifer? There wasn't a more deserving criminal on the entire continent, let alone one sleepy little fishing town. And yet - Zell's mother, of all people, seemed to have a soft spot for Seifer and his friends despite the attack.  
  
For a moment Quistis wondered if she was looking into things deeply enough. She had been convinced that she didn't need anything but Garden in her life, after all, and just look at how disappointing that goal suddenly turned out to be. So, what if Seifer was more than a simple hooligan and troublemaker? What if all of this really was just his own way of asking for help? Seifer had always been too proud to do things typically - as his former instructor, she could personally attest to that. He always sought out the most difficult, convoluted ways of accomplishing his personal goals - and more often than not, those methods landed him (and his friends) in trouble with the authorities.  
  
An image of Seifer after their first tussle bowing and giving her a mocking smile before running off flitted across Quistis' mind. She froze it and studied it more carefully; his hair was still impeccably groomed, but his cheekbones were showing a little more prominently than usual - he already had a wiry build to begin with, but was he getting skinnier? His once-proud grey duster was also little more than a patchwork of tatters, she had noticed that immediately. Could Seifer really be that desperate? A cold chill ran down Quistis' spine. Quickly, she pushed the image and her questions away. _No._ No matter what Ma Dincht said, she couldn't afford to start second-guessing Squall and the mission. They'd messed this one up more than enough times already; basic SeeD training clearly cautioned against humanizing the enemy. A human Seifer, a Seifer she could actually feel sorry for - that was something Quistis wasn't ready to face, at least not today. She shook her head, firmly shutting the door on that debate, and tried to focus on something simpler.  
  
"You would have been proud of Zell today," Quistis said suddenly. "He apprehended one of the Bandits pretty much by himself." Surprisingly, it didn't sting as much as she thought it would to admit that out loud.  
  
Predictably, Ma Dincht puffed up with pride as she heard Quistis' praise. "That's my boy," she crowed proudly. "Just like his grandfather!"  
 _Like mother, like son,_ Quistis thought to herself in amusement.  
  
At that moment, Zell himself came around the corner, his hands empty of groceries and something that looked suspiciously like jam smeared across his chin. "Sorry 'bout the house, Ma," he said sheepishly, throwing Quistis a look that she could only assume was some desperate sort of wink.  
  
"Zell," Ma Dincht tutted sternly at him, "how many times have I told you about trying to help without thinking things through?" The proud twinkle Quistis had managed to place in her eye broke through the reprimand, however, and she relented before Zell's head could droop too low. "Well, it's only fitting that you clean up your mess. At least this way I get to see my baby for a little while longer!"  
  
Quistis opened her mouth again, trying to protest, but Zell beat her to it: "No problem, Ma, that's what we were here to do!" He pumped a fist into the air, calling: "Hey, ya little Rascal! Get yer butt out here and help clean up the house!"  
  
A muffled shout emerged from the direction of the kitchen: "Get your girlfriend to do it for you, Chickenwuss!"  
  
Quistis and Zell both froze immediately, although Ma Dincht began to frown fiercely.  
  
"Why, you little rascal!" she bellowed. "Quistis is our guest! Now come out here and help your brother before I -"  
  
Ma Dincht's implied threat resulted in faster action than Quistis had ever seen in her life. A short, speeding blur loaded with paper towels, a large plastic bucket, and what she suspected was a bungee cord breezed between them, pausing only to throw a "You suck!" over his shoulder in Zell's direction. Ma Dincht smirked in satisfaction and turned a sharp eye onto Zell, who raised his hands defensively.  
  
"Alright already, I'm goin'!" he yelled, taking a large step backwards. "Quisty, maybe you can help Ma in the kitchen or somethin' ... I kinda spilled the jam," he added sheepishly.  
  
 _Help in the kitchen?_ The words were like a foreign language to her, striking a dull terror into her heart. Quistis Trepe and kitchens were meant to admire each other from a distance, she was certain of it. The only kitchen appliance she had ever managed to befriend was the coffeemaker, and that was more a matter of necessity than desire. Quistis started as another drop of water struck her on the head. "Zell," she protested, "you really should let me -"  
  
"Nope," Zell interrupted, grinning almost maniacally. "You soaked it for us, so now all we gotta do is pull this shi - stuff," he amended hastily with a glance at his mother. "All this _stuff_ off the roof. And bingo!"  
  
"But Zell," Quistis said sternly, putting her hands on her hips and plying her best Instructor voice on him. "We're a team - Squall said so himself - and it's not fair for me to let you do this on your own." The small ember of panic was beginning to work its way into a merrily crackling blaze at Zell's increasingly stubborn resistance to her offers.  
  
Unbeknownst to Quistis, however, only one stern voice held any power over Zell within the Dincht household: Ma Dincht's patented _Get In Your Room Right Now Or You Don't Eat For A Week AND You Do Your Own Laundry_ voice. Compared to Ma Dincht's _Laundry_ voice, Quistis' best Instructor tones sounded more like the pathetic mewling of that kitten Selphie had brought home from Trabia than the angry snarl of a Coeurl. Zell stuck his tongue out at her and grinned. "Don't worry, Quisty. It'll be better anyway - you can't help clean, you're allergic."  
  
The fleeting thought of the Esunas flickered through Quistis' mind, distracting her long enough for Zell to trail after his brother, giving his mother a meaningful look.  
  
"Right, Quistis," Ma Dincht said, sweeping her into the kitchen. "If you want to pitch in that badly, why don't you help me with dinner?"  
"Dinner!" Zell crowed as he vanished out the door. "Ma's food is the best thing ever, Quisty!"  
  
Quistis found herself surrounded by gleaming copper and cheerful red towels. She took a moment to absorb the décor; it didn't _seem_ to be the chamber of horrors that she was expecting from her limited experiences with Garden's industrial Cafeterias. Although, there were an unusually large number of copper pots and pointed utensils hanging from the walls. She returned her attention to the countertop - Ma was apparently almost done with the groceries. A small stack of fresh vegetables sat next to a clean wooden cutting board, and one solitary bag remained in the corner. The rest of the Dincht kitchen practically gleamed with cleanliness, in direct contrast to the house's exterior. Bright sun poured in through red gingham curtains, and the room smelled faintly of lemony-freshness. Quistis was a little unsettled, but her panic was slowly dying out; her experiences with kitchens were mostly limited to things like grabbing an ice cream from the Garden Caf or scolding students who hadn't properly cleaned the tiny Dormitory snack bars again. She'd never been in such a cheerful, homey kitchen before; if it looked and smelled this nice, maybe this wouldn't be such a bad experience after all.  
  
"Now, dear." Ma Dincht's back was to her as she unloaded the final grocery bag; her arm waved vaguely at the pile of vegetables in the corner. "Since you and Zell are finally here for dinner, I'll make my special homemade spaghetti sauce - it's Zell's favorite," she added, throwing a grin over her shoulder. "Could you do me a favor and cut up those vegetables?"  
  
 _Cut._ Cutting sounded like the kind of thing Quistis could handle. She nodded, almost stiffly. "Of course, Mrs. Dincht. Not a problem."  
  
"Oh, call me Ma, sweetie," the matron replied. "The cutting board and knives are over there."  
  
The cutting boards were easy - Quistis simply chose the largest one. She turned her gaze to the knives. Some of the vegetables looked rather large - she would probably need a pretty big knife. She pulled a couple out, instinctively testing their weight and balance in her hand as she'd been taught to do in her _Throwing Knives and Daggers 115_ training. She finally settled on a hefty one; it sat right in her hand, although it had an unsettling resemblance to a Tonberry knife.  
  
If Ma Dincht had any comments on her choice of knife, she swallowed them immediately at the determined, almost dangerous look on Quistis' face. "Here you go," she said instead, handing over some indiscriminate vegetable blobs. "Two green peppers - chop these as finely as you can - and an onion, chop this one finely too, just watch out for the onion tears!" Quistis awkwardly took a hold of the three lumps Ma Dincht gave her - _onion tears?_ What in the world did that mean? "And here, I'll prepare the mushrooms while you chop those."  
  
 _Right._ Quistis let out a deep sigh. She hadn't really handled a knife in years - she'd picked up the whip shortly after - but hopefully she could still manage to chop vegetables, right? Vegetables didn't bleed. At least, she didn't think they bled. No, chopping was okay. It was something anybody could do. _Seifer Almasy could chop a pepper. Well, maybe not... he'd probably shoot the pepper instead. All the more reason that_ _ **I**_ _should be able to do it, though,_ Quistis thought with determination, and brought the huge knife down through the green vegetable.  
  
The resounding thud made Ma Dincht jump and very nearly cleaved the wooden cutting board into two pieces. "Oh!" she cried, a little color coming into her face. "Maybe with a little less - enthusiasm?"  
  
Quistis flushed. "Sorry about that," she replied hastily, trying to smile. "Apparently I don't know my own strength." Furtively, she began to disengage a few of her more powerful junctions.  
  
"Oh, it's okay," Ma replied. "My nerves have been on end ever since this -" The gesture took in the house, the water dripping from various windowsills, and the noises of two boys playing outside. "Since the incident," Ma finished, adding on a dramatic sigh which definitely reminded Quistis of Zell.  
  
Quistis turned back to the pieces of her pepper, staring forlornly up at her from the cutting board. Tiny white seeds were scattered across the cutting board; the stem was twisted and mangled. Frowning, Quistis decided to remove the white, springy mass she found inside of the vegetable before continuing; weren't green peppers supposed to be _green?_ Maybe this one was spoiling. Better safe than sorry. Still, she glanced over her shoulder nervously as she gathered up the seeds, stem and white bits. Hyne forbid, if she was doing this wrong she didn't want to upset Ma Dincht any further. She waited for an opening, and when the older woman's back was turned, Quistis surreptitiously tossed the bundle out the nearest window. At least with the current state of the house's exterior, nobody would notice another small addition to the mess.  
  
Ma Dincht whirled around, brandishing a trash bag, and Quistis jumped guiltily. _Drat._ Maybe she shouldn't have unjunctioned all those GFs so soon after all.  
  
"Here you go, sweetie, you can throw the seeds in here - oh, that's strange," she added, frowning at Quistis' pepper. "There's no membrane in that one. Hmm, I wonder if that kook Odine has started experimenting with vegetables now, too," she added with a disdainful sniff. "Well, I'll let you keep this anyway, since you've got the onion."  
  
Quistis managed a weak smile and a wave. She let out an internal sigh of relief; so she had guessed correctly. Then, she froze once again and eyed the onion warily. Did onions have membranes too? She couldn't remember ever having seen an onion with seeds in it. Then again, she couldn't remember ever having seen a whole onion before, either.  


One problem at a time, Quistis reminded herself. She turned her attention back towards the mangled pepper. _Chop this as finely as you can._ She hefted the knife, adjusting her grip a couple times, and then took a deep breath and started chopping.  
 _  
TOK ... TOK ... TOK._

Okay, so this wasn't as hard as she'd thought. She twirled the knife in her hand once, rotating the pepper slices for easier access.  
  
 _TOK-TOK-TOK-TOK!  
  
_ Her second time through was even better: perfectly cubed, even-sized green pepper chunks spotted the cutting board.  
  
 _TOKKATA-TOKKATA-TOKKATA-TOKKATA-TOK!  
  
_ She did the final pepper even faster, secretly pleased with herself as she finished chopping with a flourish. She _was_ Quistis Trepe - why would she be afraid of a kitchen?  
  
Buoyed by her success with the peppers, Quistis slammed the knife through the onion with a little more enthusiasm than she'd meant. Though the presence of any seeds was conspicuously absent, she did note that the skin was a little papery, and decided to peel off the outer layer before she -  
  
 _Oh, gods, what was that?_ The most pungent smell she'd ever been privy to punched her in the nose. Quistis reeled, dropping the onion back onto the cutting board. She tried not to retch. What had she done wrong? Her eyes stung with tears. Quistis started in surprise; it had been a long time since she'd cried over something this insignificant - in fact, it'd been a long time since she'd cried at all. It really couldn't be that big of a deal that she'd ...well, she _had_ screwed up Zell's homecoming meal... She sniffled.  
  
"Oh, Quistis," Ma Dincht said with a chuckle in her voice, pulling out a large skillet, "I told you to watch out for those onions."  
  
Quistis gulped air, trying to scare the sting out of her eyes. She felt foolish; what if Zell walked in, right this very minute, and saw her bawling over the stove?  
  
"Here," Ma Dincht said hurriedly, "I'll take care of the rest. Why don't you put the water on to boil?"  
  
She bustled Quistis over to the stovetop. Quistis looked down at it with panic rising in her mind. _Boil ...water?_ She understood the basic mechanics of it - heat water until the point that it began to vaporize - but she was used to seeing it done by an automatic water heater of some sort, or better yet, by her beloved coffeemaker. There was no such device here - only a metal pan, a sink, and - why in Hyne's name did Ma Dincht hand her oil and salt? Did the coffee machine add those in automatically while she wasn't looking?  
  
 _Keep it simple._ Water first, obviously. There was a large pot in front of her; swallowing her first instinct - which was, unfortunately, para-magic - Quistis took the pot to the sink and filled it. Once it was back on the stove, she froze, staring at the pot uncertainly with the salt in one hand and oil in the other.  
  
"Just a sprinkle of both to help it along," Ma Dincht called out, her lips quirking into a suppressed smile.  
  
"I knew that," Quistis grumbled quietly, tipping both bottles over into the pot. She immediately righted them as she heard the other woman squawk loudly.  
  
"Not so much!" Ma Dincht yelled, pulling the bottles away from Quistis' hands and inspecting the pot with chagrin.  
  
"Sorry... I wasn't concentrating?" Quistis tried, giving Ma Dincht a weak smile.  
  
The other woman looked at her suspiciously in response. "I suppose it's alright - it's just for the noodles, after all. Have you ever cooked before, Quistis?"  
  
Quistis blinked. The question was simple enough, but the tone it was asked in brought up looming feelings of doom coupled with inadequacy. It had already been a day of revelation after revelation; her love life, her career, even those niggling questions about Seifer's motivation - could she stand one more? Admitting that the great Instructor Trepe didn't actually know how to cook?  
  
"Of course I have," she answered smoothly. "It's just been a rough day."  
  
Apparently not. The answer seemed to satisfy Ma, though, who gravitated back towards her side of the kitchen after a moment of close scrutiny.  
  
 _Put the water on to boil._ How did one of these blasted things work anyway? There had to be some kind of button - or like a switch - _I'm an intelligent SeeD,_ Quistis told herself sternly, _even if technology and machines are more for Selphie and Zell. I can figure this out._ Below the pot she spotted a row of dials; choosing the one directly under the pot, she turned it on.  
  
And waited. Ma Dincht hummed while she finished the onion and went to work on the mushrooms.  
  
Quistis could hear Zell and his brother laughing outside. She thought fleetingly about how much she'd rather be out there than in this kitchen. The water wasn't moving. She wondered apprehensively if she should hit it with a fire spell or some such thing. She leaned in close to check it; the water was still lukewarm, but a waft of hot air hit her face along with a few black tendrils of smoke. Quistis looked down just in time to see the cardboard box which contained the noodles burst into flame. The Water spell was passing through her fingertips and dousing the fire almost instantaneously, though the smell of burned cardboard began to fill the air and more than a few of the now-soggy noodles were suspiciously black. Apparently, she'd heated the wrong burner.  
  
 _Hyne, I fail at this,_ Quistis thought as she finally noticed the tiny pictures beside each dial which indicated the appropriate burner and turned the proper switches, hastily dumping the dripping noodles into the pot of salted water when she was done. It was already too late to avoid attention, though; excess water was running off of the stove and dripping all over the floor.  
  
"Good Hyne, what happened here?" Ma Dincht choked out as she turned around and surveyed the disaster area that was formerly her stove.  
  
"I don't suppose you'd buy that rough day excuse again, would you?" Quistis replied.  
  
Ma Dincht stared wordlessly at the mess, the surprise clear on her face. "... you shouldn't let _all_ of Zell's habits rub off on you," she finally managed to say.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Quistis mumbled, fumbling for a paper towel and avoiding what she was sure was Ma Dincht's incriminating glare. "I knew I shouldn't have come in here. I really should be out there, doing something useful instead of destroying your house from the inside out -" Her self-recriminating tirade came to an end as Ma Dincht caught her hands and carefully pressed a sponge into them.  
  
"You can pick up the water much more easily with this," Ma said gently. Seeing Quistis' crestfallen expression, a tiny smile crossed her face. "You know, Quistis, no one's born perfect. We all have to get our start somewhere." She patted Quistis' arm comfortingly. "Just stop trying so hard to be something you aren't, honey, and enjoy this for what it is - a learning experience."  
  
Maybe... just maybe... it really _was_ that simple. Somehow, it was everything she needed to hear at exactly that moment. So was this what it was like to have a mother? It was... _nice._ She allowed a small smile to escape. "Maybe you're right," she said, mopping eagerly at the floor.  
  
"Of course I am. I have years of experience," Ma Dincht laughed with her. And then frowned as thick steam began to billow from the stovetop. "What on earth - Quistis, you didn't put the noodles in already, did you?"  
  
Quistis winced. "Umm... yes?" she offered cautiously.  
  
"Oh dear," Ma Dincht sighed.

**.x.x.x.**

Quistis pursed her lips and hesitated in the door frame. To her credit, Ma Dincht had tried to give Quistis a crash course in cooking. She was reasonably certain that she could now boil water without the use of magic or any serious damage to the surroundings. Nothing Ma Dincht said or did could convince her to go near the onions again, however, and her attempts to cook the raw ingredients had met mixed success. After a while, Ma Dincht had all but kicked her out of the kitchen, ushering her instead towards Zell's room with the instructions to make herself comfortable.  
  
That was hardly possible; Quistis was an intensely private person, and invading someone's room without their knowledge or permission was tantamount to reading a personal diary after breaking open its lock. Besides which, she wasn't sure she could make herself comfortable at all in a room which clearly screamed that it belonged to Zell. She half-suspected that if he had been actually living there, it wouldn't be nearly so neat and clean as it was now. Even so, the room was a jumble of bright colors and tastelessly combined odds and ends. A large, ratty poster advertising one of _Pupu and the Space Invaders'_ old concerts was hung crookedly over the bed. T-board accessories lined the shelves, although the T-board itself was suspiciously absent, Garden regulations notwithstanding. There were a few weights and an old punching bag collecting dust in a corner. But perhaps the most damning of all was the Chubby Chocobo bedspread with matching plushy carefully tucked between the pillows.  
  
No doubt about it, this room screamed Zell Dincht in every way possible. Quistis felt a smile forming, which quickly transformed itself into a harsh frown. The newfound feelings she suspected she was beginning to have for Zell were both intriguing and very much unwanted. When she first imagined how her own perfect date might look and act like, Zell Dincht couldn't have been further away from that ideal mental image if she tried. But there he was now, crowding her thoughts, making her tongue-tied and clumsy, forcing her to do things like smile at the most inopportune moments. It was an unwelcome invasion into her own privacy; therefore, she reasoned to herself, it was perfectly acceptable to step into Zell's bedroom without his blessing. Technically speaking, she had been invited there by Ma Dincht - never mind that the poor woman more than likely just wanted to keep her out of the kitchen.  
  
A few stray photographs tacked onto a corkboard caught her eye, and she found herself lingering over snapshots of a much younger Zell caught in various poses with his friends and family. She noticed that his grandfather featured prominently among them; not surprisingly, the two looked nothing alike - apart from their eager, open smiles and the patented Dincht 'thumbs-up' pose. Another more recent picture showed him with the rest of the Orphanage gang, herself included. It had been taken during the post-war celebration banquet, and even Squall was smiling amicably at the camera. Her own expression was stern, however, and she looked pale and distant compared to the others. She moved on quickly to his desk.  
  
Another twinge of guilt struck Quistis, but she shrugged it off. It wasn't snooping, she told herself as she rifled through a few of the comic books and papers scattered across his desk. It was... _reconnaissance._ Her nose wrinkled as she caught a glimpse of one of the old issues of _Girl Next Door_ hidden underneath the cover of a much more innocuous comic book. Well, apparently he was a normal, healthy teenaged boy after all - though, considering some of the models, she had to wonder why Zell seemed to be so hung up on women's breasts. It wasn't like he hadn't ever seen them before, not with that magazine in his possession. Though, she added with a smirk as she tilted her head and lifted one eyebrow at the extremely unlikely pose splayed across the page, if he was searching for the real thing in those pictures, he'd be sorely disappointed by reality. Quistis was fairly sure there wasn't very much that was _real_ about those girls' chests. Something was bothering her about it, though; frowning, she delicately lifted the cover of the comic away and peered at the title page.

_"Girl Next Door's Summer Special: Beaches, Bikinis and Buxom Blondes"_

So. Zell liked blondes, too. Quistis swallowed and hastily slammed the magazine shut, feeling a hot blush rise to her cheeks. A loud shout and a clatter drew her attention to the windows; pushing back the cheerful yellow curtains, she peered out. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, except of course for the thick slop of orange goo dripping from the roof of the house. Zell and his brother were nowhere in sight, however. She was just about to turn away when a shadow passed overhead; Quistis let out a small yelp as Zell's body sailed past the window and hurtled towards the ground below. Her hands were already halfway through the Float sigil before she realized that he was bouncing up and down outside of the window and whooping with delight, rather than splattering messily over the ground. A short, thick bungee cord was roped around his ankles, and he was using a squeegee as a makeshift rudder for leverage.  
  
"No fair, I wanted to do that!" The petulant shout came from somewhere above; Zell, on an upward bounce, managed to sling his body around gracefully so that he faced the roof.  
  
"You know I gotta check if it's safe first. Wouldn't want a runt like you squashing his head on the ground," he yelled, whirling the squeegee through the air wildly. A few wet splatters landed on Quistis' window, but Zell didn't appear to see her. Smirking, Quistis hid herself behind one of the curtains and watched Zell bob up and down.  
  
"Yeah, like your hair would protect you any better," his brother yelled.  
  
"Quit complainin', you can do it tomorrow," Zell called back.  
  
The noise caught more than just Quistis' attention - Ma Dincht emerged from the front door, sweeping the area with a calculating look and wielding a spatula. "What on earth is all this commotion -" Her eyes widened as she looked up and saw one of her sons dangling from the rooftop. "ZELL DINCHT! Get down here this instant, young man!"  
  
"Aww, c'mon Ma..." Zell whined. "We were jus' havin' a little fun..."  
  
"And don't encourage your brother!" she said shrilly, aiming the spatula for Zell's head. He did manage to twist and bounce out of her reach before it could connect, parrying with his squeegee on the downswing. "Dinner's almost ready anyway. Why don't you come inside and get cleaned up? Your brother and I can finish the rest up tomorrow."  
  
"Cool! I got dibs on the shower!" Zell yelled as he jackknifed and deftly unhooked the bungee cord from his ankles. Once released from the harness, a quick twist as he fell ensured that he landed solidly on both feet.  
  
Funny, but when Zell performed his acrobatic feats so casually, Quistis thought he had more in common with a cat than a chocobo despite his bright tuft of spiky hair. She spent a few more moments admiring him as he raced inside the house after his scolding mother, before his words finally registered. _Dibs on the shower?_ Hastily, Quistis untangled herself from Zell's curtains and strode purposefully towards the door. Motherly permissions or not, there was no way she would be caught hanging around in Zell's room while he stripped -  
  
The door flew open, and instinctively Quistis took a step backwards. It was then that she realized she needn't have worried - apparently Zell wasn't the type to wait until he got into his room to start shucking off dirty clothing. _Holy Chocobos,_ her brain managed to register incoherently as her eyes drank in the sight.  
  
"Huh? Quisty? Whatcha doin' up here?" Zell asked, surprised. His soaked, sweat-and-sauce-stained shirt was bunched together in one hand, the other resting on the doorframe. He generally liked to let his baggy pants hang stylishly low; absently, she noticed that he wore bright red boxer-briefs which did very little to cover up the lower half of his sculpted abdominals.  
  
Her eyes were almost magnetically pulled upwards towards the chiseled lines of his pectoral muscles; Zell worked out, and it showed. The way he was leaning on the doorframe drew her attention towards his clearly defined bicep next, taking note of the small droplets of moisture that rolled off of it. A bright sheen of water and sweat covered him almost completely, and Quistis had to resist the urge to reach out and trace her fingertips across his shoulder to see if they would come off wet. Sweet Hyne, she knew she was staring, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the visual feast, let alone move.  
  
"Uh, Quisty?" Zell's voice was more uncertain now, bordering on nervous from the intensity of her scrutiny. Finally, she managed to flick her eyes away from his body and towards his face. He was starting to flush, she realized, and it spread a pleasing red tone all the way down his throat and chest. Studiously, Quistis averted her eyes before they could travel any lower once more; already, she knew she had taken too long to answer him. There was no plausible excuse she could come up with anymore; he had caught her gawking at him, plain and simple. Guiltily, Quistis tried to muster up feelings of shame for her behavior, but her sense of propriety seemed to have taken a permanent vacation, at least around a shirtless Zell. Instead, she found herself wordlessly taking a small step forward - apparently, her feet could move on their own, after all - maintaining his gaze all the while. He had grown a bit, she realized distractedly - they were practically the same height even when she was in her heeled boots - and she was close enough to feel the gentle wash of his breath over her face. The pungent smell of Hyne's Hot Sauce mingled with the much more personal, distinctive scent of his sweat; it was making her eyes water slightly, but she couldn't bring herself to pull back.  
  
"Quistis," Zell said again, his eyes going wide. They were blue, she realized; not the pale, crystalline shade of her own, but brighter and suffused with flecks of green, much like the ocean on a warm summer day. Why had she never noticed his eyes before? _Just a little more,_ she thought, leaning in closer. _A little more until what?_ another part of her silently asked, but she ignored it. Zell opened his mouth, and she tensed in anticipation -  
  
"I-I, uh, I really gotta take a shower, y'know?" he blurted out suddenly, and Quistis jerked backwards.  
  
 _Shower, hmm. Oh yes,_ one part of her was cooing cheerfully. The rest of her was still reeling. What had she - what just - did she actually just get _rejected?_ By Zell Dincht, of all people? Humiliated, Quistis felt her face flame up. "Sorry," she managed to mutter, suddenly angry. She couldn't decide if it was at Zell for not following through on her clear invitation, or herself for being foolish enough to even try making a pass at Zell Dincht - in his own bedroom, no less. That kind of behavior was something only a person like Rinoa could pull off gracefully. _Just like cooking,_ Quistis thought to herself grimly - yet another unwanted learning experience. In fact - all her revelations today had only revealed things she was lacking. A good home, a wonderful and loving mother, a sense of belonging in a quiet and peaceful town - a _human_ side. She was still Quistis Trepe, underneath it all, and all she'd ever make was a good soldier.  
  
Zell, for once, seemed to be able to sense her upset and hung his head. "I, uh. Y'know, I didn't mean... I mean, you didn't... uh, or maybe you did, but... uh, well, y'know with that whole datin' thing..."  
  
Quistis allowed herself one last swift mental kick and then pulled herself together. "Don't say anything, I understand. What I did just now was out of line. I apologize." Silently, her pride was groaning in agony. She, Quistis Trepe, had lost before she even started playing this game. To a girl named Piggy, no less. It was unfair to take it all out on Zell, though. He couldn't have known; he was the one who came to _her_ for dating advice, after all. He couldn't even handle his own crush on the painfully shy library girl, let alone deal with any sort of aggressive advance on her part.  
  
"I... well... _aw, nuts._ You don't gotta apologize or nothin', I didn't mean it like that," Zell muttered uncomfortably, looking away.  
  
Funny. Endearing as it was to watch him blush and stammer, Quistis supposed Zell Dincht wasn't her ideal date after all. It seemed she had forgotten to factor in the most important aspect of the mix that comprised her own personal Mr. Right - he'd have to like _her,_ not some other pig-tailed library brunette. She swallowed her disappointment - now she knew how the Trepies felt. Not that it brought her any closer to understanding their behavior. At least, she seriously hoped she wouldn't start acting like a 'Dinchtie' of some sort. Hyne, she was never going to live this down, least of all from her own sarcastic internal monologue.  
  
"We can talk after dinner, Zell. And after your..." here she paused, her eyes trailing down his chest once more. It _was_ a delicious chest. She wondered if it would be possible to bribe the laundry department into shrinking a few of his baggy shirts, or better yet, losing them completely - _don't be a Dinchtie,_ she reminded herself sternly. "... shower," she finished, averting her eyes with a surge of willpower. _That wasn't too bad,_ Quistis thought to herself. It was still possible to act normally around Zell, no matter what she was feeling. It wasn't the end of the world. Daring a glance back in his direction, she noticed he hadn't moved. He had taken his weight off the door frame and was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, though. Why wasn't he getting on with it? Didn't he realize how much of a distraction he was, standing shirtless before her like that? "What?" she snapped at him finally, her patience eroding.  
  
Zell jumped at her tone, and she cursed herself for noticing that nothing on him jiggled from the motion.  
  
"Well, uh... you're in my room," he told her lamely, gesturing behind her with his sopping shirt.  
  
"Your room. Yes, so I am. Right, I'll, umm, be leaving now." Quistis said, feeling herself slowly turning red. She tried to exit and was stopped a few times by Zell sidestepping in the same direction at the same time she did - _stop looking at his chest, Quistis!_ \- before they both let out a little nervous laughter and she finally managed to escape. The door to Zell's room slammed loudly behind her.  
  
Groaning, Quistis stopped in the hallway and gently thumped her head against the wall a few times. Perhaps ignoring her feelings for Zell wasn't going to be as easy as she thought. Despite their previous successes, she voted the day a clear disaster. A small - but loud - portion of her wanted nothing more than to escape this fiasco: to run away from the homey kitchen and the friendly banter (and the attractive abs) and back to the rules and regulations and hard lines that Balamb Garden specialized in. Possibly, Quistis thought with a heavy dose of irony, to the fluorescent-lit, steel-walled room that served as Garden's kitchen and held Garden's pre-processed ice cream. There she could sit, in the only type of kitchen a girl like her could ever understand, eating food made by a machine and rehashing over and over in her mind her doomed attraction to the one boy who would never want someone like her.  
  
It was really only the thought of the disappointed look on Zell's face that kept Quistis from re-activating all her Junctions and making a mad dash out of the house and back to BG. No - whatever he _didn't_ feel about her aside - Zell was still a friend. So what if this trip to the Dincht home had highlighted every single one of Quistis' many personal flaws? That was _her_ issue, not his.

Gritting her teeth, Quistis made her way down the stairs and back into the kitchen. She was still SeeD - even if she'd never be anything better than that - and it was SeeD protocol to never abandon a partner.


	11. In Which Ma Dincht Adopts Another Delinquent

"Oh! Quistis! What are you doing back here so soon?"

Quistis wished that Ma's intonation could be interpreted as enthusiastic, but even she could see it was anything but. Watching the motherly, apron-bedecked woman standing over a steaming pot of the most appetizing tomato sauce she had ever borne witness too, Quistis felt her sense of displacement even more acutely. She almost turned around and marched right back out of the kitchen, but her ironclad sense of responsibility rooted her feet to the ground.

"I was wondering if I could help out a little more with the meal," Quistis managed to say. She was secretly hoping that Ma would turn green at the prospect and chase her out of the kitchen with her wooden spoon, but it seemed that ill fortune was on her side. Rather than looking displeased at the idea of Quistis attempting to cook once more, instead Ma broke into a huge, almost blinding and all-too-familiar grin. Quistis had seen that grin before. It was usually plastered across Zell's face right before he tried something utterly foolish on his T-board. Instinctively, she took a step backwards and tried to retract her offer. "Of course, since you're almost done, maybe I should just -"

"Quistis, you want to make a home-cooked meal for Zell?" Ma Dincht asked suddenly, her eyes practically shining with enthusiasm. "Honestly, I never thought this day would come," she added in a choked voice, swiping at her eyes. "My baby, all grown up! And catching the attention of a wonderful young woman like yourself..."

Quistis' nose wrinkled. Dear Shiva, Ma Dincht really was desperate, if she was willing to consider Quistis' attempt at cooking to be a _good_ development. Then again, considering Zell's incredible reputation, or complete lack of one, with the ladies of Balamb Garden, it wasn't that much of a surprise. Ma Dincht was probably just relieved to see that Zell had brought home a _girl_ instead of someone like _Irvine._

"There's a few vegetables I have left over, why don't you grab that pot over there and start by sautéing the onions?"

Quistis nearly did turn out of the kitchen at that. "Onions?" she repeated weakly as Ma ushered her before the stove and placed the empty pot solidly on one of the burners before her. A quick glance at the merrily bubbling concoction next to her gave her a small boost of confidence - Ma's own sauce had onions in it, didn't it? And it didn't smell like Dr. Odine's latest cleansing astringents...

Quistis bit her lip. Carefully studying the dials on the stove, she flipped the proper one on and poured a small dollop of oil into the pot. Well... even if she couldn't have Zell, the least she could do would be to show her appreciation for all he'd done for her up until now. With a firm mental nod, she quietly accepted the onions Ma passed to her and dumped them into her pot. She'd make Zell the best home-cooked meal he'd ever tasted, or burn the kitchen down trying.

.x.x.x.

Zell eyed the conglomeration of what was trying to pass for food on the plate in front of him warily. He wasn't entirely sure, but he swore that it eyed him back and even winked. He swallowed thickly.

"It looks great, Quisty," he finally managed to say. Beside him, his brother snorted quietly, tapering off into a hiss as Zell discreetly kicked him under the table.

"Good," Quistis said, offering a small, slightly relieved smile. "I was afraid I'd messed it up somehow," she added somewhat self-consciously. "Would you like to try some, Mrs. - ah, Ma?"

"NO WAY!" Zell shouted, slamming his fork into the bowl of sauce - if the chunky mass could be called that - before Quistis could pull it out of his reach. "Uh, I mean, since Ma said how ya made it extra special for comin' home, I figured it should be just for me, y'know?"

Quistis frowned slightly, surprised by his display of bad manners, but let Zell return the bowl to his side. Ma Dincht intervened quickly, an understanding smile on her face.

"Don't worry, dear, I made enough leftovers to go around," she said comfortingly. Said sauce was already being busily piled onto his brother's plate of noodles. Zell watched the delicious-looking spaghetti sauce being ladled out jealously; Ma's recipe was his favorite. He returned his gaze to his own plate, where the pile of brown glop steamed at him unappetizingly. Gulping in some air, he tentatively scooped a little of it onto his fork and tried to ignore Quistis' intense stare. He felt like his performance was about to be graded; licking his dry lips, he hoped that Quistis' meal at least tasted better than it looked. At the last minute, his courage failed him and he glanced around the table desperately.

"Anyone got some cheese?" he stalled.

"Oh... I put the cheese in there while I was cooking it," Quistis replied helpfully. "I thought it might save you the trouble of doing it later." Seeing Zell's dismayed look, her cheerful expression faltered slightly. "Why, was that wrong?"

"Well, duh," Zell's brother blurted out, before abruptly falling silent with a pained look on his face.

"Naw, I was just wonderin' why I never thought of that before," Zell covered, casually shifting his foot back under his chair. Actually, if he was being perfectly honest, he _had_ thought of that before, and even tried it once. It hadn't worked then, either. "Uh, good thinkin', Quisty."

Quistis gave a twitchy little smile. Ma Dincht coughed lightly into her hand. Zell's brother kept respectfully silent and began instead to shovel noodles into his own mouth. The little brat just _had_ to set precedent, didn't he? Steeling himself, Zell squeezed his eyes shut and slurped up the mess on his fork. Tentatively, he rolled it around in his mouth. The noodles were a little rubbery, and there was definitely too much salt in the whole thing, but maybe it wasn't really all that bad - he bit into something slightly crunchy, and his nostrils flared and tears popped out of his eyes.

 _What the hell?_ What was a whole chili doing in the sauce? Gasping for air, Zell reached for his glass of root beer and downed it quickly; everyone at the table was staring at him.

"Is something wrong?" Quistis asked, concerned. "Your face suddenly turned bright red..."

"'s nothing serious, I just got the chili," he managed to cough out, blinking the tears away.

"There's chili peppers in it?" Ma Dincht said with bemusement. She turned to Quistis, dismayed. "I thought I told you to put just a sprinkle of pepper in to season it."

Quistis blushed lightly. "There were so many colors... I wasn't sure which pepper you meant, so I just grabbed the red ones," she explained. "Since the sauce was supposed to be red, I thought it would fit..."

"You sprinkled the sauce with whole red chili peppers," Ma Dincht repeated, her eyes going wide.

Quistis bit her lower lip. The slurping sounds from Zell's brother became noticeably louder.

"It's alright!" Zell blurted out suddenly. "I like my sauce hot," he said, directing a large and hopefully convincing grin towards Quistis. "It tastes, uh, interesting," he said, sticking his fork back into the noodles. It landed in a particularly hard clump which seemed to be browned and gelled together. Almost half of the food on his plate came off when he tried to lift it to his mouth. Wincing mentally, he reached for his knife to saw off a corner of the noodle block. Oh well, at least there couldn't be too much sauce in the next bite.

" _Interesting_ good or _interesting_ bad?" Quistis asked suspiciously, her face still slightly flushed.

 _Uh-oh._ Zell paused, the noodle patty on his fork frozen in mid-air.

Quistis was waiting patiently. _Aww, nuts._ He stuffed the fork into his mouth and began to chew viciously, stalling for time. She was pinning him under her best _Instructor_ glare; he had never been able to lie convincingly to her when she gave him that look. It was like she could smell even the faintest whiff of an untruth and flush it out. However, there was something in Quistis' face - some sort of unusual shine in her icy blue eyes - that made Zell realize he should at least try to make her comfortable. He opened his mouth to reply, only to find that the rubbery residue had suddenly taken it upon itself to glue his jaw shut at the teeth. He worked at his chin, trying to un-pry his molars, which were as tightly attached to each other as Cerberus' heads. What the hell had she put in this thing? Rubber cement?

By the time he'd managed to separate his teeth, it was too late - his silence had been enough of an answer for Quistis, intentional or not. "It's okay, Zell," Quistis said, reaching over for his plate. Something strangely sad and open passed over her face, but it was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by the same cool and efficient Quistis Trepe he saw every day. "Here - your mother made food especially for you," she continued, her face still blank and emotionless. "I'll eat this."

Zell couldn't help but stare. He'd never seen Quistis look so - _defeated._ The Quistis he knew from Garden would've snapped back some witty retort and then forced that food into his stomach with the mere power of her glare. Or she would've at least - _wait._ Quistis had calmly placed the plate on her empty placemat, and was in the act of lifting a forkful of rubbery goo into her mouth.

"Quisty!" Zell exclaimed in alarm, but - unwilling to say anything else, such as _"Better not eat that!"_ \- the warning was too late. Quistis chewed.

And chewed some more. Her face was turning slightly pink, and Zell panicked as he realized there were chili peppers in the sauce that she might be mildly allergic to. He wasn't entirely keen on the prospect of having to face another Esuna-high Quistis, especially in front of his mother, and _double especially_ after whatever the hell had happened in his bedroom earlier. She continued to chew, her face growing even pinker in that blotchy way, not the cute one. No, he should definitely not be thinking of Quistis as cute right now. She hadn't looked cute in his bedroom, either. Quistis had looked scary. Scary in that good way, like the drop from the top of the Quad looked while on his T-board. He gulped reflexively.

Finally, she swallowed. There was a long pause - even his bro was watching - and then Quistis delicately reached for her glass of water.

"Zell," she said slowly. "This is - this is _horrible._ "

She looked up at him, and again Zell felt himself caught by the intensity of her gaze. He was trying to say something - anything - to make her feel better, but he was just - tongue-tied. He'd never been good with girls, so it wasn't exactly a surprise, but this was - different. When had Quistis become so alluring? It was as if every time she so much as glanced his way, he couldn't look away - not that he minded, really, as Quistis was a very attractive woman, but it was just - _rude_. He abruptly realized he was still staring, and flushed red. Quistis was still looking at him, her gaze almost harsh and unforgiving, her eyes locked onto his. Furtively, he wondered whether Siren was one of the GFs Quistis had Junctioned for their mission.

Then something happened. Quistis' face - something _changed,_ slightly. The burning, prideful glint in her eyes faded away as she looked at Zell. Her expression softened. Her eyes started to glimmer; she looked younger, maybe even relaxed. And then, much to Zell's surprise, Quistis gave a small chuckle.

"Really, Zell," she said, still giggling a bit. "It's _awful_."

Zell was still in shock, but he managed to laugh a little, not wanting to ruin the mood. Quistis laughing was already a strange enough experience; Quistis, laughing at herself? That was something totally new to Zell. Although the more he laughed, the more he found it funny: Quistis Trepe, one of the most amazing SeeD cadets in the history of Garden, armed with a plate of burnt, gooey spaghetti. Also, she was right: _that shit was disgusting_. She could probably register it as Garden's newest weapon. He laughed harder.

And so did she. The tense mood had completely vanished. Zell's brother went back to slurping down his own food, and Ma Dincht cleared away the offending plate with a knowing smile. Zell and Quistis simply sat at the table and let everything out in a loud, raucous burst of mirth. After all they'd been through - Seifer, Squinty, the mess at Felicia's, Squall's temper - one disastrous meal wasn't going to ruin anything. Zell howled until his gut hurt. Quistis was hastily dabbing at her eyes as she gasped for air.

Ma Dincht came back with two towering plates of spaghetti, drowned in her special tomato sauce and topped off with home-made meatballs. Zell breathed in the delicious aroma and smiled. Everything was going to be okay. Across the table, Quistis gave him an answering smile before primly spreading her napkin across her lap and beginning to eat. Zell felt his stomach flip-flop; well, almost everything was going to be okay.

Why did he feel so mushy every time Quistis looked at him that way? Especially now, when - what the hell had she been doing in his bedroom anyway? He'd expected a - a scolding, maybe, something about _keeping your room clean_ and _respecting your mother_ and maybe what _the hell are these porno mags doing in your bedroom, Zell?_ But all she'd done was stare at him, and although he'd been a little confused and surprised at the moment they'd shared out by the remains of the SeeD fountain, he'd _definitely_ felt some kind of spark between them in his room.

She'd just looked so - so right, there, staring at him admiringly and hanging out with all his other favorite stuff and poised conveniently right next to his bed and _oh, shit, I really did not just think that._

Which was why he'd panicked. Quistis was supposed to be helping him learn how to date, and now he was gonna repay her by getting a huge whopping crush on her? That wasn't fair, it wasn't gentlemanly, and having his legs broken by Quistis' whip certainly wasn't going to help him get any kind of date at all. He just - there was something about her, recently, and every time she looked at him it was like his heart did some sort of flipping thing that made him feel kinda good and a little sick. Although he could've _sworn_ that she'd been checking him out upstairs - but that couldn't be it. Quistis Trepe didn't check people out, especially not people like Zell. He must've been imagining things. Yeah, that was it. This weird flip-flopping-heart thing had made him mistake Quistis' usual critical eye for some sort of admiration. She'd probably been taking mental notes on how his muscles were so differently shaped than Squall's, or something.

Quistis glanced up from her plate again, and Zell realized he'd been sitting there and staring at her with his fork half-way to his mouth. Embarrassed, he stuffed the entire forkful in, saying hastily around it: "So, bro, how's the job going?"

"Zell," Ma chided, "don't talk with your mouth full."

"Smoother than the moves you're usin' on your girlfriend," his brother replied with a smirk.

"We ain't datin'!" Zell yelled quickly. Then he snuck a glance at Quistis; instead of looking insulted, or even embarrassed like she had last time, she was playing with her noodles, the trace of a tiny smile on her face. It didn't have the same open, genuine quality her earlier outburst had, and Zell fell the beginnings of a quiet concern niggle at him. She caught him staring, and her smile widened and softened marginally.

"It's okay," she told him quietly. "I ...never had a brother," she added, almost wistfully.

"'ey, don't worry, since you're here, we can share. There's more than enough brat to go around," Zell answered, eliciting a scowl from said brat and another soft giggle from Quistis. Ugh, that flip-floppy thing was happening again. He looked down at his plate and decided it would be safer to concentrate on _his_ meatballs rather than _hers_ \- _stop lookin' at 'em, Zell!_ he told himself angrily - for the time being. He felt his face turning red, as if he'd just downed a full bottle of Hyne's Hot Sauce.

The rest of the meal passed without notable event; 'peaceful' was never a word one would apply to the Dincht household, but the strain of the pasta-sauce encounter had vanished. Zell's brother gave an exciting recount of his days at the Balamb Burger drive-through - somewhat embellished, as Dinchts were prone to do. Zell encouraged his brother as much as he could regarding both the job and T-boarding (possibly combined) until Ma started laying out thinly veiled warnings regarding "washing dishes for a week" and "scrubbing the bathrooms."

It wasn't until the meal was mostly over that Zell realized Quistis had been practically silent for almost the entire time. Something had to be bothering her, and it seemed to be more than her botched attempt at pasta sauce. "Hey, Quisty," he said, jumping to his feet before his brother could ruin the chance: "Wanna help me with the dishes?"

Quistis smiled wryly. "Actually, I think that's the one kitchen-related thing that I probably could manage to do." Inwardly, she groaned. Zell was never eager to clean - ever. Something was up. She was going to have to explain to him why she'd been practically drooling all over his pecs and throwing herself at him - she was going to have to explain her presence in his bedroom, at least. Perhaps she could plead temporary insanity. Too many GFs on the brain. Lingering effects from AMAS? Maybe she could blame Ma Dincht? Aliens made her do it? _No, wait, he likes Pupu._ Good grief, she was cataloguing Zell's preferences now. She scrabbled for another explanation - maybe the Trepies were finally affecting her psychological state. The Trepies could be used to plausibly explain away almost any form of aberrant behavior, after all.

Still, the excuses all rang false in her mind as she gathered the empty plates from the table. There was certainly a small part of her that was considering the possibility of just telling Zell that she wanted to rub her hands all over his chest, possibly while covered with oil. Her face flushed just considering it; if she couldn't even think it without giving herself a severe mental scolding, how in the world was she going to say it out loud? In front of his _mother?_

 _No,_ she told herself sternly. _You're his friend, and you've gotten yourself into this to help him ask Piggy out on a date. Don't make this any more awkward than it already is._

Quistis glanced up. She'd been so preoccupied that she somehow hadn't noticed that Zell had backed her into a corner in the kitchen. He seemed overly close, and yet still too far to... _Stop it,_ Quistis repeated like a mantra. _Get a grip on yourself!_

"Quisty," Zell said softly, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Is somethin' wrong?"

Quistis smiled. It was the same awkward smile she'd given Squinty just that morning. "Everything's fine, Zell," she said through her teeth.

"Quistis," Zell repeated lowly, a slight frown on his face. He seemed to realize he was leaning in and caught himself, quirking his mouth into a half-smile that Quistis certainly did not find ridiculously attractive. Her knees were definitely not going weak at the sound of him using her full name in that tone, either. "You can tell me," he continued. "C'mon, it's just me. What's up?"

Quistis bit her lip, but before her brain could catch up with the escaping thought, she said: "I feel out of place here."

Zell blinked. Quistis blinked. She had certainly not meant to say that aloud. But once that stray thought had been let free, the others followed it. "Your family is so _typical,_ and - and you all love each other," she stammered, not really knowing how to express what she was feeling. "You're so happy together, and no one cares whether you're perfect or even good or not, because you've got each other, like a family should." She turned away, mortified. "I just... watch you guys having have fun with each other without worrying about what it looks like or where it's going to get you, and I don't understand how you can do it." And because that outburst wasn't enough: "Sometimes I wonder what that would be like. I don't really - I feel like I just don't belong here."

Quistis sucked in her breath and put a Limit Break-sized effort into ensuring that the turmoil she was currently feeling didn't surface in her expression. Sweet Shiva, she should have listened to her gut instincts and escaped back to Garden long ago. There was nothing more embarrassing than pouring one's heart out to someone like Zell Dincht. Well, okay, so there was one thing that would be more embarrassing, and that would be asking to drench Zell's naked chest in whipped cream and then eat it off of him. At least she'd succeeded in keeping that thought firmly under lock and key. But still.

"Are ya kiddin', Quisty?" Zell put the plates down on the counter and came back to stand before her. "I know you're not all dumb an' stuff... well, least not like I am," he said with a self-depreciating chuckle. "Ma an' my bro - we joke around 'cause it's, y'know, what we do. Most of the time we got nothin' else to talk about, what with me bein' in Garden and Ma and my little bro goin' civvie. An' we ain't like you... I mean, don't get me wrong, I love her an' all, but not even Ma is super smart or super hard-workin' like you are." He paused, unable to meet Quistis' eyes. "There aren't many people who can be as good as you, Quisty."

He chuckled, suddenly embarrassed, and tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "I was afraid you weren't gonna like 'em, since you're always so together and on top of things, and we're usually just wingin' it from the seat of our pants."

Quistis shook her head, her cheeks burning faintly from Zell's awkward praise. She looked away - out the window, through the bright cheerful curtains, at the gleaming copper pots - at anything other than Zell. Still, she must have let something slip through her defenses, because Zell seemed to gather together enough courage to keep on talking.

"So ya feel out of place," he continued cheerfully. "It's prob'ly because you grew up all different - you don't ever lose your temper, or embarrass yourself in front of everyone by runnin' your mouth." He grinned at her. "Ma spoiled us growin' up - bet you could tell by that awesome tomato sauce - so we usually managed to get into lots of trouble just on our own. She tried to keep us in line, but..." Zell shrugged. "She also wanted us to be ourselves." The smile he gave her was someone muted (at least for Zell) by his mild embarrassment. "As loud an' obnoxious as we are."

Quistis gave a half-hearted chuckle at that. "It certainly doesn't help that being around your mother makes me feel like I'm seven years old again, being scolded for things like setting the table incorrectly." She paused, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes and still emphatically not looking at Zell. "Or, you know, not being able to cook."

"Aw, Quisty, she don't mean it like that." Zell laughed. "It's just her way of handlin' kids - well, people younger than she is. Look at it this way - she's used to dealin' with me an' my bratty little bro out there." Zell gestured emphatically. "D'ya blame her for bein' a little pushy? We don't listen to a word she says! She doesn't know how to deal with a _good_ kid!"

Quistis couldn't help but laugh. "I hadn't really thought of it that way." Sometimes, she thought wistfully, it would've been nice to remember her own foster home - as unhappy as she knew she'd been, it would've been at the least satisfying to know where all these hang-ups had come from. Along with her apparent attraction to anything blond and bearing chest muscles.

"Besides," Zell said, waggling his eyebrows conspiratorially, "you soaked the house with your Aqua Breath thingy, an' all I did today was make it worse. I'm kinda surprised she wasn't yellin' more."

Which brought her to the next of many awkward and sore points. "I really wish you would've let me help you. It was my idea to use the Blue Magic, so technically that part of the mess is my fault. Besides -" She gave a wide gesture meant to take in every single gleaming pan in that kitchen. "I'm obviously no good in here."

Zell awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck again. "But it was so _gross_ out there, Quisty. I didn't wanna make you muck around in all that soggy stuff."

"Why on earth not?" Quistis asked, genuinely confused as she snuck a glance back in his direction. "I've been through worse, you know. You've _seen_ me slogging through worse, in fact. I know you couldn't have forgotten the war already, not with the way you use your GFs," she added with a slight smirk.

Zell paused and fumbled for an answer. She was perfectly right, he knew. He _had_ seen her doing things more dangerous, disgusting and morally questionable than scraping off condiments from the roof of a house. But that was different, somehow. Back then, they had been fighting not just for their own lives, but also for the fate of the entire world, past and future. Even Zell had the occasional sleepless night from those memories. Between their small circle which had survived Time Compression and faced down Ultimecia, it was something that was implicitly understood and rarely spoken about. It seemed like all of that had occurred another lifetime ago, though, and he had been a different person then. Quistis had been different, too. The hard part was trying to explain how she was different _now._ It wasn't so much that she had changed, but that she was different to _him_. His stomach started doing nervous loop-de-loops once more.

"It's - well..." he trailed off, making a futile gesture in Quistis' direction. Hyne, how could he explain it in any way that she wouldn't find insulting? _You make me feel like I wanna barf, that's why I don't want you doin' stuff like that around me._ Oh sure, saying _that_ would go over well. "... y'know," he finished lamely.

Quistis turned to face him fully and crossed her arms in front of her chest, pinning him under a stern look. "No, Zell. I don't know," she said crisply. She was using that _Instructor_ tone on him again, and this time it was working. Zell found himself standing at attention in front of her, trying to resist the urge to salute. The words came spilling out in a guilty rush.

"You're just too classy to be doin' that kind of stuff!"

Quistis' eyes went wide, her shock at his confession apparent on her face. Crap, he knew telling her the truth had been a dumb idea. "And, uh, I didn't wanna have to see you junctionin' any more Esunas," he tacked on. "It ain't healthy to use so many that quick..."

"Classy," repeated Quistis faintly. Then, a little more loudly, "You think I have class? Are you being serious?" She directed a pointed look towards him, and Zell gave her a pained nod, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead of searching for the handle of her whip, however, her face broke into a sunny smile. And it wasn't sunny just for Quistis this time, either. Anyone could've walked in and seen the expression on her face and honestly called it a smile. Somehow, one of the impulsive, idiotic things that he knew had a tendency to come spewing out of his mouth had made Quistis smile, really smile. He had made her happy. The flip flops in his belly were turning into something less vomit-inducing and more comfortable and even pleasantly warm. He wanted to jump up and down and pump his fist into the air in victory; Zell was pretty sure Squall had never made Quistis smile before. _Hah, I just one-upped Leonhart!_

Zell's mental cheering ground to an abrupt halt. Since when had he been competing with Leon- no, Squall, anyway? _Squall,_ he emphasized in his mind, was his buddy and his Commanding Officer, and Zell didn't envy the other man's position one bit. There was nothing for him to compete with Squall for. No reason to feel a little threatened by Squall's cold, efficient, _responsible_ behavior. No reason to be annoyed at his constant, daily interaction with the other senior staff members of Balamb Garden. And really no reason to start referring to his good buddy by last name only, an honor that Zell usually reserved for people like Almasy. _No reason except..._ Zell choked and turned to the source of the problem.

Quistis was shaking her head and looking away, trying (and failing) to hide the lingering traces of her smile. "You're ridiculous, Zell," she said, but he could tell by her tone of voice that she didn't really mean it. Her cheeks were tinged with the faint pale pink of a blush, and this time it was the good one. The cute one. Oh, man. Now he was cataloguing Quistis' blushes? This was definitely not a good sign.

"Well, let's get started." Quistis toyed with the clasps at her shoulders. "Those dishes won't do themselves."

Her gloves had already come off for dinner; now Quistis was once again peeling off her long leather sleeves. Except this time, she didn't stop with just one. Her bare arms were finely toned, probably from slinging that whip of hers around so much. One long, faint white scar marred the otherwise delicate skin on the outside of her left forearm. It was something he remembered her getting from the time she, Selphie and Irvine almost bought it inside of that out-of-control Iron Clad at Fisherman's Horizon. Her arm had caught on one of the twisted metal edges and tore open as she scrambled out of the rapidly sinking tank. Zell knew if that had happened to him, he probably would have been yelling loud enough to shatter the window panes all the way over in the mayor's hut. It had to have hurt like a bitch and it bled all over the place, but she hadn't said a word. Instead, she'd just turned right back around, reached in through those same jagged metal spikes and hauled a semi-conscious Irvine out before he could be trapped underwater with the rest of the scrap metal. She'd silently healed it afterwards on her own, in typical Quistis fashion.

Zell had to quash his sudden desire to touch the scar, to physically feel the contrast between the battle-hardened soldier and the delicate woman that was Quistis Trepe. Quistis wasn't like other girls, he realized. She didn't crumble under pressure, she never backed down from a challenge and she never settled for anything less than perfection. She wasn't anything at all like the Library Girl. The Library Girl didn't make him want to grab her just by rolling up her sleeves. The Library Girl didn't make him feel like he was _burning._ Zell knew he was dense, but he wasn't that dense - no red-blooded male could be - and he was finally starting to get it.

And that was basically the whole problem. _He_ never would be getting _any_ of Quistis' _it._

"Shit," he muttered aloud.

Quistis paused, dish in hand, and turned to look at him. "Well, if you hate doing housework that much, I can finish these off myself," she told him, her previous gentleness falling away, only to be replaced by her typical sarcasm. "Of course, then _you'll_ be in charge of filing all the paperwork for this mission," she trailed off with a threatening smirk.

"Uh, no, I mean I'll help!" he said quickly, grabbing a towel and stationing himself by the drying rack. Absently, he dried and stacked the dishes as Quistis handed them to him. If Ma Dincht had walked in and seen Zell just then, passively doing housework, she would have instantly known that something was wrong. Fortunately, Quistis was not as knowledgeable about his housekeeping habits. That, or she was just as distracted as he was. Zell grabbed another glass and toweled it off, mulling over his latest dilemma and trying to casually watch Quistis out of the corner of his eye.

"Will you stop staring at me? I _do_ know how to wash dishes even if I can't cook," Quistis said sharply. "You really need to stop tensing up." An odd look passed over Quistis' face as she said that; he wondered what she was thinking. It was no use trying to figure it out, though; Quistis had a Triple Triad face that could bust up the Card Queen herself.

They continued to clean the dishes in relative silence; Zell started and couldn't help but glance over at Quistis once more as she began to fill the air with a hummed tune. She was a little off key, definitely not a natural talent like Rinoa was, though at least she wasn't quite as tone deaf as Selphie. That wasn't the point, though; Quistis would never let herself be caught publicly singing, especially if she wasn't perfect at it. That could only mean one thing - even if he was tying himself up in knots over Quistis, at least she was still comfortable enough to relax around him. In the meanwhile, he'd just have to think of a way to stall until he could deal with these feelings he was having. Extending their dating lessons was an obvious necessity. Getting Quistis to stop having those weekly progress meetings with Squall was another. Beating up the Trepies and getting Selphie to hack their website could come later. Zell nodded to himself. Yeah, this could work.

Unbeknownst to either Quistis or Zell, a third party was observing them covertly from the doorway. Ma Dincht really did have a way with motherly surveillance, particularly when it concerned something as sensitive as her eldest son's potential romantic future. She had to admit, things had been looking pretty bleak up until then; between her two sons, she was halfway resigned to accepting that she would never see a grandchild in her lifetime. Quistis' unexpected visit, however, had changed all that. And, sensing an opportunity brewing, she decided it was high time to meddle. Clearing her throat noisily, she bustled into the kitchen, clucking her tongue at the surprised expressions on the pair's faces.

"Zell Dincht! I thought I taught you manners!" she scolded him.

"Aww, Ma! What'd I do now?" Zell whined reflexively.

"I already told you. Quistis is your _guest,_ " Ma replied patiently. "Two healthy young people like yourselves shouldn't be holed up in a kitchen on a fine evening like this one. The next thing you know, you'll be sitting around the living room coffee table and playing Triple Triad like a pair of little old ladies."

Quistis flushed slightly and replaced the dish she had been soaping up into the sink with an unintentionally loud bang. There went _her_ plans for a pleasant evening. "Well, what do you suggest we do then?" she asked with a little more bite than she had intended.

Ma Dincht, however, was unruffled by the outburst, instead giving Zell a not-too-subtle wink. "Young people should spend their time doing young people things," she explained patiently. Before they could protest, they were being pushed towards the door as Ma spoke rapidly. "It's much too late to go back to your school at this hour, so you might as well spend the night here. Zell, Quistis can have your room, and you can sleep on the couch."

"What? But the couch is _lumpy!_ " Zell was saying.

"So? You'd make Quistis sleep on it instead?" Ma paused to give the back of Zell's head a light, chastising smack. "Remember your manners!"

Quistis, in the meanwhile, had enough. While she was grateful in some regard for Ma's unequivocal welcome into the Dincht fold, she drew the line at being herded blindly towards some unknown goal by Zell's mother. She planted her heels into floor and spun around to face the older woman. "It's only twenty-one hundred- ah, nine o'clock, Ma. That's more than enough time for both of us to get back to Garden. Besides, we are trained SeeDs. A little darkness will hardly kill us."

"Oh my, she's quite the soldier, isn't she?" Ma Dincht said with a note of admiration. Then she clucked her tongue. "But not everything should be about work or keeping schedules, dear. You're only how old now? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

" _Almost_ twenty," Quistis said through gritted teeth.

"Nineteen! Much too young to be so dedicated to your job," Ma continued airily. "I'm sure that Garden of yours won't fall apart if you stay here for the night. Besides, it will be too late to get back to Garden after this evening's excursion."

"Huh?" Zell said, at the same time as Quistis asked: "What _excursion?_ "

"The one Zell is about to take you on, dearie," Ma replied cheerfully, pushing them once again towards the front door. "Balamb actually has quite a lively bit of nightlife to see, if you know where to look. I'm sure my boy can point out a few of the better ones to you," she said, giving Zell a look that clearly made refusal a non-option.

"Uh, yeah?" He glanced around uncertainly. Ma nodded at him, an encouraging smile on her face. Zell chewed his lip in thought - and then laughed. A plan was beginning to form; he grinned at his mother, who was giving him a knowing look.

"Right! There's this cool place I wanna show you, Quisty," Zell said, picking up the slack and eagerly grabbing an unwilling Quistis to drag her the rest of the way towards the door. He paused as his fingers closed around her upper arm; in Ma Dincht's sudden rush, she hadn't actually managed to replace her leather sleeves. Her skin was cool to the touch and even softer than he'd imagined it would be. Instinctively, he traced a thumb over her scar line, and he noticed that she shivered. He slowed to a stop and eyed Quistis worriedly. "You don't need a jacket or nothin', do you?" he asked. "'Cause I could bring mine -" he added, reaching for the baggy vest that was hanging by the door.

"No! Don't wear it!" Quistis said abruptly. She reddened slightly - in the cute way this time - and shook her head. "Leave your jacket behind. We're coming back anyway, and it's, uh, a little warm tonight, don't you think?"

"I'll say," Zell mumbled, forcing his thumb to relax. It certainly felt like white-hot fire was sparking through his hand and up his arm from where their skin made contact. Reluctantly, he released her before she could make some sort of scathing comment about her personal space and his increasing tendency to violate it.

"So, enjoy yourselves tonight like teenagers should! Don't worry about a curfew, I won't wait up for you two. And Quistis - don't do anything I would," Ma added with another unsubtle wink as she pushed them outside. The door to the Dincht household slammed shut, and Quistis and Zell were left alone under the rapidly darkening Balamb sky.


	12. In Which Two Blondes Do Something Which Is Definitely Not A Date

Quistis turned to Zell, lifting her eyebrow marginally. "So where exactly are we going?"

Zell grinned. "Surprise. C'mon." His brain told him it was a phenomenally bad idea, but he couldn't help himself: Quistis was just _standing_ there. He reached out, grasping her arm again and tugging gently.

"Zell, I hate surprises." However, despite her words, Quistis wasn't really resisting his pull. She seemed to be letting him lead her blindly, simply trusting him instead. Zell winced. He was taking Quisty to an _awesome_ place, somewhere she could really just let go and have fun - like she'd been talking about before. But he knew Quistis: if he told her right now where they were going, she'd refuse it based on dignity alone. His chances of getting her to go along with it were much better if it was a teeny tiny little surprise. Okay, so her reaction would probably be more along the lines of a nuclear fallout than a startled gasp, but by then it'd be too late. Besides, with Squall breathing down their necks, he was pretty sure Quistis wasn't going to risk leveling any more of Balamb's scenery.

Quistis paused, her arm suddenly going tight in Zell's grasp. "Are we going to Wendigo's?"

Man, she had a good memory. "Nope," Zell crowed, "but that's a good guess! This is even _better_ than Wendigo's, I swear!"

"Better than Wendigo's," Quistis muttered under her breath. "Who would believe it."

They came into the Balamb Marketplace, and Zell reluctantly dropped Quistis' arm; she'd probably Laser Eye _his_ arm off if she thought he was attempting anything in public. There seemed to be a few scattered people out here and there; Balamb had never really had much of a nightlife, but the Balamb Bandits had put a stop to most of what it _had_ had.

"Zell," Quistis said, taking a couple hurried steps to walk beside him. "There isn't anything down by the pier except Felicia's. And I don't think it's too much to assume that you're not taking me to Felicia's."

Zell threw her a surprised glance. "Wait, you really don't know where we're goin'?"

"No," she replied patiently. "What in the world would make you think I did?"

"You mean," Zell said, incredulous, "you've never actually snuck out of Garden."

"No!" Quistis looked horrified. "Why in the world would I do something like that?"

"For the clubs!" Zell cackled, throwing a fist into the air and doing something strangely unlike a dance step with his feet. It wasn't until he was done that he noticed Quistis had stopped moving.

"Shit!" He turned around and grabbed her arm again. "C'mon, Quisty. What's wrong?" From the look on her face, he probably knew what was wrong anyway. Here came the tirade about how hanging around in such disreputable places was shameful behavior for a SeeD and also possibly bad for your health. He'd been hoping to avoid this particular argument until Quistis was actually inside the club in question, preferably with a drink in her hand. Something nice and refreshing, maybe with a little paper umbrella in it. Actually, Zell had really just been hoping to avoid the argument altogether - Quistis wasn't exactly the club type, he knew, but she'd sounded so... well, he wanted to take her out for a good time.

"Zell, what if one of my students is here? What if someone sees me?"

Zell snorted. "Riiight. Like one of your kids is really gonna be mad to see you comin' out and loosenin' up with the rest of us." Quistis tensed up a bit, stung, and Zell winced; that certainly hadn't come out the way he wanted it to. "Look at it this way, Quisty - I betcha won't see anyone from Garden, 'cause they'll all be hidin' so they don't get reported for being out late." He grinned. "Especially if it's Irvine and Selphie."

She still hadn't said anything, and it occurred belatedly to Zell that the loss of her authority may not have been her primary concern. _What if she's embarrassed to be seen out here like this?_ Once the thought had occurred to him, Zell was convinced it couldn't be anything but. _Quistis is scared that her students will see her... with_ _ **me.**_ The thought stung, but it wasn't exactly surprising.

"I, uh -" He rubbed the back of his neck, nervously looking away. "Look, Quisty, it's - I mean - forget what my Ma said, yeah? This... alright, it ain't a date, okay? An' if you're really that worried about bein' seen out here with me..."

Quistis sighed - and, to his surprise, gave a small smile. "Zell, please don't be foolish. This has nothing to do with you. I'm mostly concerned that seeing my students out at some sort of club is ... just a little inappropriate." She sighed and brushed her hair away from her face with a gesture that made Zell want to run his hands through it. _NO!_ he told himself sternly. _No more touching of the Quistis!_

"I'm probably just being paranoid," she continued, looking at him sidelong. "I worry too much sometimes." Was she really asking for approval? From him?

"C'mon," Zell said for probably the thousandth time that evening. "Let's just go. There won't be too many cadets anyways, it's a school night. An' if there are, and you feel weird, then we'll just leave, okay?"

Quistis gave him a decisive nod. "Alright, Zell," she said, and the soft way she said his name might have given him goose bumps, if he'd wanted to admit it. Not trusting himself any further, he led her quietly to the door. A small, unobtrusive sign lit up with dull pink neon lights revealed that the name of the establishment in question was _"My Final Heaven."_ Quistis turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at Zell, who shrugged.

"I had a hand in gettin' this place set up," he explained. "Actually, they came to me, after the war an' all," he added. "More of that Hero of Balamb stuff, y'know. I figured what the hey! There weren't any real good club scenes in Balamb anyway, so..." He trailed off as they approached the door, which was being guarded by a portly bald man who looked vaguely familiar.

"Biggs! What's up, dude!" Zell yelled enthusiastically, and Quistis blinked in recognition. _So that's where they went._ "'ey, where's Wedge tonight?" Zell was asking.

The man tensed up and grimaced, giving Zell and Quistis a leery look. "He's working the floor tonight. And don't talk to me, asshole."

"Yeah, we love ya too," Zell joked, throwing a fake punch into the stocky man's arm, who instinctively paled and cringed away from the blow.

"FINE! FINE! Forget about the cover charge, just get in there and leave me the hell alone!" Biggs yelled, pulling back the rope across the entrance and gesturing at the heavy iron door behind him. Zell quickly pushed Quistis through, giving her a wink.

"That works every time," he boasted. Quistis, however, wasn't listening. Instead, she was frozen in front of a large, fluorescent poster which was hung on the door, backlit by a few weak lights. _"SeeD Night Special: All Drinks Half Off for Garden Members In Uniform,"_ Quistis read with a note of disbelief. She turned to Zell, who was scowling at the large notice.

"Aww, I knew I should've brought my uniform alo--aaah, uh, I mean," Zell fumbled, suddenly noticing Quistis' cool glare. It wasn't too late to rescue the situation - she didn't have that distinctive blue-gold glow around her yet, after all. "Just think of it like this - it'll be easier to avoid people we know now, right?" he fudged as he ushered her through the door.

"Right," Quistis said, sounding anything but convinced. Still, she let him place his hand on the small of her back - man, was he having _all_ the luck tonight - and guide her down the staircase.

Even though it was nearly dark outside, Quistis still had to wait a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the pitch black inside the building. Zell squeezed her down a dark corridor; a few other clubbers were hanging about in the narrow hallway, quietly drinking, smoking, or, as one couple appeared to be doing, trying to exchange tongues and possibly also shirts. Quistis felt herself flushing and quickly averted her eyes, suddenly conscious of the hand on her back. The faint, muffled bass of loud music vibrated through the floor, and she felt herself tensing up. She hated being caught in an unknown situation, unprepared for what to expect - but she forced herself to relax. Zell wouldn't let her get hurt, right? She did trust him. She was also fairly certain he wouldn't let her embarrass herself, either - wait, what _did_ Zell consider embarrassing? She sifted through a couple of scenarios in her mind and couldn't come up with anything comforting. Quistis' stomach lurched unpleasantly, and she tried to hang back. "Zell, I don't think this is such a good idea -"

"Relax!" Zell bellowed into her ear as he swung the door open and the wave of heat, light and music hit them. It was like stepping into another world, and not in that Estharian sense of the word. Brightly colored strobe lights flashed through the darkened room, randomly highlighting the crush of bodies that were pressed together on the dance floor. Apparently Quistis' fears of being recognized in the club were unfounded; it was so packed that it would be more than easy to simply get lost in the crowd. Hyne, she hadn't realized that Balamb had that many residents, let alone that so many of them would be avid club-goers. The flash of a SeeD uniform caught her eye, and Quistis tensed once again, squinting at the dark figure and hoping it was no one she'd recognize in the morning. "Zell," she shouted in warning.

"Isn't this place great?" he yelled over the noise, flashing her one of his huge grins.

 _No!_ she wanted to bark at him angrily. Quistis had never felt so out of place in her entire life. The music was too loud, the lights were confusing, and the people around her were _writhing_ against each other. This was definitely not her idea of fun. What had Zell been thinking? She whirled on him once more, her mouth open to deliver a sound blasting, and abruptly trailed off.

Zell was waving at someone - the bartender, she guessed, from the direction he was gesturing wildly at - and grinning like a maniac. That wasn't what silenced her, though. He, like most of the other clubbers, had already started bobbing to the music. Apparently, dancing was second nature to Zell - it shouldn't have surprised her, considering how good he was at everything else that was physical. That led her mind abruptly off track as thoughts of his finely muscled arms and what he could be doing to her with them suddenly filled Quistis' head. The moment of distraction cost her; by the time she had collected her bearings, he was already sliding her towards said bar.

"Zell! Good to see ya, boy!" The burly, tattooed man behind the bar slid a drink to one of his customers and turned on them with a grin. "Who's yer date?"

"Oh, this is Quistis. We ain't datin', though," he yelled somewhat sheepishly. "She's just a friend."

The bartender only raised one speculative eyebrow and eyed her carefully. Then he squinted at her. "You're one of them heroes from Garden, ain't ya?" he said suddenly, snapping his fingers and pointing at Quistis, who froze. She silently wished for her whip as a few glances were directed her way from the crowd. Fortunately (or not), the bartender kept on talking as though he hadn't noticed her chilly reaction. "Oh, we get your type 'round here all the time. Good for business, yeah?" he yelled, winking at her.

Quistis looked at Zell in alarm, who was mouthing _"Irvine an' Selphie"_ at her with another, somewhat panicked grin. Quistis rolled her eyes.

"Your lady friend seems a little tense! First time here, right honey?" He laughed at Quistis' insulted look and pushed a filled glass in her direction. "Tell ya what. Drinks are on the house tonight. You need something, little lady, jus' tell 'em you're with Zell here."

 _But I'm not with Zell,_ Quistis wanted to say, suddenly feeling awkward as her earlier depression returned full force. Zell was trying to cheer her up, though. If he thought this fiasco-in-the-making would work, the least she could do was humor him. It wasn't like any of her other dates, with or without Zell, had gone any better anyhow. _Just another miss to add to my already perfect record,_ Quistis sighed inwardly, accepting the drink with a mild smile. "Thank you," she shouted, bringing the dark concoction to her lips. Her eyes began to water almost instantly from the smell of the alcohol alone.

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" Zell shouted, snatching the drink out of Quistis' hand and shoving it back towards the bartender. "C'mon, Joe, give her somethin' to help her loosen up, not pass out!" he complained. "Somethin' fruity. With strawberries!" he yelled, leaning over the bar.

"I could've handled that," Quistis told him, mildly annoyed.

Zell pulled back from the countertop and turned to look at her. "But I don't wanna get you drunk, Quisty," he told her earnestly. "Just, y'know, relax a little and enjoy yourself!"

She stared back at him mutely, wondering if he even knew how much he sounded like his mother. _Think of this as a learning experience,_ Quistis told herself, and accepted the smaller, brightly colored cocktail that was pushed at her next without argument. She sipped at the frothy liquid delicately - this time, it was sweet, with only a slight trace of tanginess hinting at the alcohol mixed in. It tasted better than she expected - and how did Zell know strawberries were her favorite, anyway? She took another, larger gulp of the drink and nearly laughed as Zell pulled it away from her with an expression that very definitely came directly from Ma Dincht.

"Not so fast! This ain't a race," he yelled. Zell did look a little nervous; probably in part because he could still remember her behavior during her magic high, which was better than she could say for herself. Quistis could've told him that he didn't need to worry quite that much - alcohol wasn't nearly as potent as magic poisoning, especially since she was in the habit of having a nightly glass of wine before going to bed. Still, it was cute to watch him sweat. She took another, longer pull from her drink deliberately, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

Zell froze, his mouth falling open involuntarily in surprise. Why was she looking at him like that? Was Quistis actually - naw, she _couldn't_ be, he told himself.

"How 'bout you? The usual?" the bartender was saying, preparing a tall mug of Hynekan.

"No!" Zell yelled a little more emphatically than he had meant to, his eyes still trained on Quistis. "Uh, I mean, I wanna stay sober tonight too," he added lamely, waiting for the inevitable blowup. Playing hooky. Drinking on a mission. Taking someone as prim and proper as Quistis Trepe to a club at all...

She smirked, pulling the drink away from her mouth. It left a thin, fuzzy pink moustache on her upper lip which he was about to point out when she suddenly parted her lips and slowly licked it away, a mischievous glint in her eye. Zell's words froze in his throat as his eyes followed the moist trail the tip of her tongue left behind. The pleasantly warm flip flops in his stomach decided to ramp up to burning congo drums at the display. He was halfway caught up in wondering whether or not he'd be able to taste her drink too, if he chased the path she'd traced across her lip with his own tongue, when he realized she was still staring at him with that weird look in her eye. She didn't even _blink._

Zell swallowed. No way. No frickin' _way._ Quistis Trepe was not actually _flirting_ with him, was she?

"Uh, Joe, I think I'm gonna need that drink," he managed to choke out, grabbing the tall glass out of the amused bartender's hand and chugging it down in one long gulp. Belatedly, he realized that getting buzzed while Quistis was ... doing whatever she was doing ... was probably not the best of ideas. But, the Hynekan was working its magic; his head spun a little from how rapidly he had downed the beer and his muscles were already relaxing. An idea struck him as he watched Quistis polish off the rest of her drink - there were no repeats of the tongue incident, he observed with a bit of remorse. Which suddenly highlighted the fact that she had given herself that cocktail moustache _on purpose._

_Oh, Hyne._

He was staring, he realized, and the bartender's smirk was starting to grow. And Quistis was still watching him expectantly. They had to get out of there - to go - anywhere but right there, before he did something colossally stupid. "Let's dance," he ground out, somewhat more desperately than he'd intended, and all but yanked Quistis away from the bar. She didn't resist as he pulled her out into the middle of the floor; maybe her own drink was starting to work, too. That would explain a lot, he figured. Except that she'd been giving him that look even _before_ she drank it.

"Are we just going to stand here, or are you going to show me how to dance?" Quistis said suddenly, glancing uncomfortably at the crush of people swaying around them. They had actually managed to clear a little space to themselves on the floor, simply due to the fact that they weren't moving with the rest of the crowd.

"Huh? Dance?" Zell mumbled, and then suddenly jerked. _You idiot,_ he swore silently. She wanted him to show her how to dance, not _dance._ Still, things were getting a little muddled in his head, and he knew it wasn't just from the beer. He'd never been any good at picking up signals - his limited experiences with Piggy were more than enough proof of that - but he was pretty sure that he was getting mixed ones from Quistis. One minute she was licking her lips at him, and the next she was telling him to teach her how to dance in her scolding, no-nonsense voice. He frowned. Well, if she wanted to learn how to dance, he was gonna teach her, simple as that. And if she did anything with her tongue at him again, well then... his blood surged in anticipation.

A low, pulsating beat started up as the lights strobed erratically around them; a new song was starting, and Zell removed himself from his observation of Quistis long enough to taste the flavor of the music. The beat was low and harsh, reverberating through his ears and flowing directly into his veins. He felt his head starting to move as he picked up the rhythm. The rest came quickly; Zell had always been a natural at dancing. It was kinda like fighting, in a way - all you had to do was feel the beat. It was easy to get lost in the music, too - everything was simpler on the dance floor. There were no Heroes or Bandits of Balamb, no SeeDs or Civilians when the songs started playing - just the dancers and the rhythm, saturating everything. When the music was playing, he wasn't special here - just another warm body on the floor, moving to the beat with everyone else. Everyone except Quistis. He cracked an eye open and saw her standing there, watching him with a mixture of confusion and fascination. "Just close your eyes an' move," he told her simply.

Quistis blinked and stared. Her experiences with dancing had always been relegated to gentle swaying in the arms of a reserved partner or simply just watching while pressed up against one of the ballroom walls. Observing Squall's first dance with Rinoa had turned her off from enjoying the experience - and while Squall, eventually, had gotten the hang of things, she seemed to be permanently stuck in that awkward stage of the first few fumbling steps.

Zell, on the other hand, was - indescribable. There was no word for what he was doing right next to her. Ridiculous, she would have called it, had they been anywhere else. It would have been, too, the way he moved his shoulders and _flowed_ across the floor around her. But here, in the club, the motions somehow fit. He was better than a lot of the other people around them, she noticed, who were blindly flailing about. Zell's motions, though apparently unplanned, were deliberate and careful; she realized that he was actually listening to the music and moving with it. What he was doing was too harsh to be called graceful, but too coordinated to be called indiscriminate. It was more than just attractive - his movements were beautiful, she realized. Quistis swallowed, feeling a sudden surge of jealousy. She wanted to _be_ Zell at that moment; to feel what he was feeling, to tap into whatever source that made him able to forget the rest of the world and just _move_ that way.

Quistis realized she was thinking of _moving_ with Zell perhaps a little too hard. Exhaling heavily, she set herself to her own attempts at dancing, trying to copy her cues from Zell while shuffling her feet clumsily across the floor. She bumped into someone on her right, who pushed back, jostling her inadvertently into another club-goer on her left. A very male club-goer who instantly began trying to - the only word she could describe it as would be _grind_ \- against her. Disgusted, she twisted violently out of her unexpected partner's grip and spun around, more than ready to tell Zell to stuff his club, drinks, and all this dancing and storm right out of the place. Instead, she found herself falling into Zell's arms.

They both froze, surprised at their unexpected collision. Then Zell gave her his quirky half-grin and began to move again, this time keeping his arms around her. "C'mon, it ain't that hard," he said, encouraging her as he planted his hands firmly on the swell of her hips, his grip tight but not uncomfortable. Quistis was inclined to disagree with him; pressed up against Zell as she was, she found almost everything to be most satisfyingly _hard._ Blushing, she tried to steer her thoughts out of the gutter they seemed to want to drown in and attempted to follow his lead. It was easier, she realized somewhat numbly, when his hands were on her hips, guiding their motion. She tried not to think about the proximity of his body against hers or the position of his legs as she swayed against him; _this is just about dancing,_ Quistis told herself sternly. Zell pressed in even closer, and Quistis closed her eyes in desperation. What had he said? _Just move?_

The music swelled, and helplessly, Quistis' eyes fluttered as her body involuntarily relaxed. She was beginning to hear it now, the pulse Zell was following that was being carried by the rich bass. Or was it the pounding of her own blood in her ears? Either way, it didn't matter; it felt like she was channeling an electric current through her entire body, and the only thing grounding her were Zell's hands. The more she felt it, the more she needed to move. Her arms began to rise of their own accord; they hovered, hesitantly, at Zell's side before she shut her eyes once more and raised them above her head. She'd never really felt this - relaxed, and yet _invigorated,_ letting loose like this and just surrendering. Quistis Trepe did not give up control - and apparently, she'd been missing out. She felt strangely exhilarated; Zell leaned in, his breath hot against her neck.

"That's the way," Zell murmured, his voice husky as his grip on her hips loosened. "Jus' keep on doin' that, Quisty..." Quistis let out an inarticulate sigh of protest at the loss of contact, before sucking in her breath sharply. He hadn't let her go completely after all; instead, he was tracing his fingertips rapidly up and down her sides. Though his touch was feather-light, it felt like he was leaving a blistering trail that burned all the way through her clothes and directly into her skin itself. She twitched and shivered, pressing herself more fully against him in an attempt to dull the almost painful sensations that were inundating her body. Instead, the contact between them sent her already sensitized nerves into overdrive; he was pressed fully against her, their swaying creating a delicious friction that burned straight through her chest and blazed a path down into her belly before finally pooling into an almost uncomfortable warmth between her legs.

Zell, for his part, couldn't even begin to describe when he had lost control of the situation. Probably from the moment Quistis threw herself into his arms. Or maybe it was when he had downed that beer. Or as early as when she had been scrutinizing him in his room with that intense expression on her face. Hell, he'd probably been on his way to losing control of the situation from the moment he realized Quistis was a woman and not just a machine way back at the beginning. And as she rubbed up against him so tightly that he could feel every curve of her body, he could definitely vouch for the fact that she was most certainly one-hundred-percent woman. One that he could no longer ignore, not when she was moving against him like _that._ He let out an involuntary groan as his groin tightened, and Quistis' eyes flew open in shock.

She was flushed, her eyes bright with excitement, and her breath was coming in short pants. Her hair was slightly mussed, and her mouth flew open. "Zell? Are you -" was all she managed to gasp out before he crushed his mouth against hers, silencing her question brutally. He felt her stiffen in surprise, but there was no going back now. If she didn't return his kiss, he was gonna have to go into a Limit Break right there on the dance floor. He began to panic slightly as she remained uncomfortably stiff for the first few seconds; he pushed his tongue into her mouth clumsily, his mind absently registering that he actually _could_ still taste the heady mix of strawberries and tequila on her. And then - for lack of a better word, she _melted_ into him, and for a split second there was no club, no music, no crowd, nobody else except Quistis, pressed tightly into him and _kissing him back._

Zell pulled away from Quistis long enough to mumble _"Thank you, Hyne,"_ against her cheek, eliciting an unexpectedly provocative giggle from her. He dove eagerly for her mouth once more as her arms circled around his neck, and she met him willingly, her lips already parting in acceptance as she pushed her hips against him.

Had either Quistis or Zell been somewhat less distracted, they might have been more aware of their surroundings, perhaps a little more cautious or, to say the least, reserved. As it was, when Irvine caught sight of them, Quistis' hands were threaded tightly through Zell's hair and Zell’s hand was already hooking under the back of her thigh to hoist her leg around his waist. _That lucky dog's been holdin' out on me,_ was the first thing Irvine thought to himself. His second thought was to dearly wish that he had brought the camcorder with him - both Zell and Quistis would owe him a lifetime of favors if he had managed to catch this - and his final thought was that he had to prevent his meddling Sefie from seeing their graphic display at all costs. With that in mind, he quickly spun Selphie away from the dangerous sight and swooped in for an inspired kiss of his own. Well, Zell couldn't be the _only_ one having all the fun on the dance floor, could he?

"Wow, Irvy!" Selphie breathed when he came up for air, her eyes glassy with surprise. "Where'd that come from?"

"Just wanted to show you some lovin', darlin'," Irvine drawled lazily. "Besides, I think it's your turn to get the drinks, an' I wanted to give you a little ...motivation." He gave her a saucy wink.

Selphie's smile dropped into a cute pout as she narrowed her eyes. "You're such a manipulator," she grumbled at him as she stomped off towards the bar.

"It works, doesn't it?" he called after her, garnering him a scrunched up face and a stuck-out tongue as a response. As soon as she had turned away, though, Irvine made a beeline across the dance floor and stopped directly in front of Zell and Quistis, who still hadn't noticed him. Probably because he was in his dress SeeD uniform, a rarity for someone as laid back as himself. Or maybe because they were too busy tonsil wrestling to notice him. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Imagine seein' the two of you here _like this,_ " he drawled. That got their attention. Quistis and Zell few apart, both turning bright red. It really was amusing, he noted, how easily blondes showed off their blushes. Even under the spotty lighting in the club, it looked like the both of them were sunburned. "No need to be shy, you two," Irvine said with a wink and a grin. "I'm here with Selphie myself," he added subtly.

Quistis got the message instantly, going from flushed to pale in a matter of seconds. "Selphie's here? Did she see us?" she blurted out, a note of panic in her voice. One which made Zell's head whip around as he stared at Quistis. Then he flinched and looked away.

"Naw, you're good," Irvine replied, eyeing Zell warily. The blonde in question looked like he was ready to punch something. Probably himself. Well, that wasn't good.

"Irvy? Irvy, where'd you go?" Selphie was shouldering her way through the crowd, two drinks in hand. She smiled as she caught sight of the small group, giving a little wave towards them and splashing some beer over herself in the process. "Oh, hey Zell! What're you doing here, I thought you were on a mission with... QUISTIS?" Selphie's mouth dropped, but Irvine saved the drinks before they could hit the floor. "Quisty? Is that really you? I mean it looks like you, but what're _you_ doing here?"

Quistis' mouth opened and closed silently, still completely off balance and unable to come up with her voice, let alone an explanation.

"I mean," Selphie continued incredulously, "I've been trying to get you to come out to this club with Rinny and me for like, forever, and now you just show up on your own? That's so unfair!" Storm clouds were beginning to form over the short girl's head, and Quistis moved quickly to placate her.

"I didn't come here on my own!" Quistis explained hastily, and then bit her lip.

Selphie's eyes grew round as she finally took in Zell's red face. "You mean you two are still on that mission together. So you're here on a mission?" Selphie squealed. "No way! Why don't we ever get missions like that, Irvy?"

"We're not here as part of the mission," Quistis reluctantly admitted, her arms crossing defensively in front of her chest. "Yes," she said tiredly as Selphie's jaw began to work soundlessly. "I, Quistis Trepe, am playing hooky. You caught me red-handed. I'd be grateful if you wouldn't mention it to Squall. Or anyone else, for that matter," she added, giving Selphie a cool look. Professional Quistis Trepe was back in place, and quickly regaining her footing, it seemed.

"But if you're not on a mission, that mean's you're here with..." Selphie trailed off and stared at Zell, who had been uncharacteristically silent during the entire exchange. He looked up from the floor, his eyes bright and angry.

"She ain't with me," he ground out fiercely. This time Quistis was the one who started, her eyes moving to Zell, who refused to meet her gaze. "I, uh," he said suddenly, the tension draining out of him. It was no use getting angry... he already knew he wasn't good enough for Quistis before anything had even started. Nobody was. But he had pushed, and pushed, and gotten her drunk and then practically mauled her in public. No wonder she didn't want to be caught hanging out with someone like him, let alone messing around on a dance floor. Well... the least he could do was try to make this painless for her. But it stung, and in more ways than one. That kiss had just been starting to get _interesting_ when Irvine broke them up. He groaned mentally and tried to push the feel of Quistis' body pressed up against him out of his mind. "I mean she is, just not like ya think," he fumbled.

"Oh yeah?" Irvine said, his smile widening. "Tell us how it is, then."

"Yeah, tell us," Selphie repeated, her frown deepening.

"Guys, I don't think -" Quistis started, but Zell shook his head.

"I dragged Quisty out here. Told her I wanted to show her this place, y'know, 'cause I helped make it an' all. She didn't wanna come with me, though. Honest!" he said, lifting his hands and forcing what he hoped was a typical carefree Dincht smile onto his face. "I practically had to carry her out here just to get her to come," he added for emphasis.

"I'll say," Irvine replied dryly. He considered himself an expert at reading body language - came with the territory, y'know - and Zell and Quistis were both broadcasting messages that covered the full range of _awkward._ "Hey buddy, how 'bout you and I go get a beer?" He casually hooked an arm around Zell's neck and - more forcefully than usual - pulled him away.

"But -" Quistis started to protest, her eyes still locked on Zell, who was studiously avoiding her gaze.

"But -" Selphie echoed, holding up her two drinks in a futile gesture. She shrugged. "Guess these are ours, then, Quisty." She handed over one beer and watched suspiciously as Quistis took a long and grateful pull from the glass. "It's alright, though," Selphie said, smiling innocently at her friend. "It'll give us a chance to have some girl talk."

**x.x.x.**

"Congratulations, buddy! I'd buy you a drink if I didn't already know you got them all free here," Irvine was saying as he pushed Zell up against the bar. He waved lazily at the bartender, shouting his order. "Hey, another beer for Zell here, looks like our resident virgin finally got lucky!"

"No more beer, Joe!" Zell yelled immediately. He figured beer was what got him into this trouble in the first place. Without it, he'd at least have had enough self control to keep himself off of Quistis before anything happened. As it was, he'd gone farther with her in the space of a few minutes than he ever had with any other girl in his entire lifetime. The rest of which was promising to be alarmingly short, if he was interpreting her reaction correctly. "Hyne, I am so fucked," Zell mumbled, leaning on the bar and dropping his face into his palms.

"You were only just gettin' there," Irvine said with a laugh. Then he leaned against Zell, draping an arm over his shoulder. "And with Quisty, too. The Trepies are goin' to be out for your blood once they hear this."

Zell's head shot out of his hands as he gave Irvine a wild, panicked look. "Oh man! Irvine, you _gotta_ keep your mouth shut on this one! An' get Selphie to keep quiet too! Quisty and me, it ain't really..." He trailed off, his initial panic changing into confusion and just a little bit of angry frustration. What exactly _did_ this make them? It wasn't like she had been trying to push him off, after all - at least, not until Irvine and Selphie showed up. Zell turned his head slightly and glared out of the corner of his eye at Irvine. Bastard. Couldn't he have waited just a little longer to interrupt them? Like, until he and Quistis were back at Garden?

Irvine was oblivious to the sudden dark glare, still grinning widely and thumping Zell on the back. "You two can thank me later," he said, and Zell's fists clenched against the counter.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Zell suddenly roared, turning and grabbing Irvine by the front of his uniform. "You think _you_ did this, or somethin'? I can't get a girl like Quisty on my own, huh?" As the words came out of his mouth, he winced at the truth in them, which only made his grip on Irvine's jacket tighten spastically. "Or you don't think I'm good enough for Quisty, neither?"

"Whoa, man, cool down!" Irvine yelled, grabbing at Zell's fingers and gingerly trying to pry him off of his jacket. He only had one dress uniform, after all, and no amount of kissing was going to convince Selphie to sew the buttons back on for him if Zell ripped them off now. "Nobody said anything about that. Besides, it's not me you gotta worry about, it's Sefie! You know how she and Rinny have been plannin' Quistis' dates for months now. I gather they aren't too happy with you movin' in on their territory."

"Their territory?" Zell repeated, releasing Irvine's shirt in reluctant surprise. "But Quisty's _mine!_ " he protested vehemently, and then groaned and dropped his head onto the bar. He didn't just say that out loud, did he?

"So you two really ARE -"

"We're NOT," Zell ground out, slamming his fist against the bar's countertop so solidly that it cracked and a few of the bowls of mixed nuts leapt into the air.

Irvine frowned, rubbing his chin. "No, I reckon you're not," he finally said, eyeing the splintered bar. "You got too much pent-up frustration to be gettin' any. Huh, so Quisty really is frigid? She didn't look it back there..." He choked as Zell's hand materialized around his shirt front once more.

"Irvine," Zell growled in warning, glowering.

"Oww, hey, watch the chest hair!" Irvine winced, shaking himself free of Zell's tight grip. "Well, that answers that," he added, taking a long draught from his beer and seemingly unconcerned by Zell's murderous glare. He smacked his lips and sighed deeply. "Zell, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but you're in love."

In love? With Quistis? _What?_ "I am not!" he answered reflexively.

"You're in denial, too. Hoo-ee," Irvine whistled, shaking his head. "If you're this bad, I bet Quisty's even worse."

"Don't you talk about Quisty!" Zell yelled, also reflexively.

"See? Love," Irvine replied calmly, sipping at his beer. "I'll be honest, when you two started all this, I didn't think it was serious. Thought you guys were just havin' a fling or something, or maybe you were tryin' to help Quisty get over that thing she had for Squall. But..." He trailed off and gave Zell a critical glance. "You ain't like me, and Quisty definitely isn't like my Sefie," he observed. "You guys don't swap spit with _anybody_ 'less you mean it." He shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. You and Quistis. Sure didn't see that one comin'. Well, welcome to the club," he added as an afterthought.

"Quisty still likes Squall?" Zell repeated numbly, still trying to filter through everything Irvine was throwing at him. His mind had stopped processing the words coherently at the mention of love.

"No, I'd say she likes someone else now," Irvine replied with a smirk. "Seriously, man. How dense are you? She practically had her tongue down your throat. Maybe more than that if I hadn't stopped you." The smirk widened. "Oh, and since you're both new at this, lemmie be the first to tell you: next time, get a room."

Zell ducked his head towards the bar, his face flaming. Oh, man. If Irvine was teasing him about it, it _must've_ been bad. He couldn't help it, though; when Quistis started kissing him, he just forgot about everything else except her. It wasn't like he had all that much experience doing it before; for Hyne's sake, that was pretty much his first kiss, if you didn't go around counting that bet he lost to Seifer five years ago. And this kiss was definitely a lot more pleasant. Just thinking about it was making him feel uncomfortably warm as a distracted grin spread across his face.

"Oh yeah, he's got it bad," Irvine mumbled to himself over the rim of his mug. "Hey. Earth to Zell. You there, man?"

Zell blinked and started. "Oh, uh, yeah. What?"

"So what're you gonna do about the others?"

"Others? What others?" Zell repeated dumbly. Then he scowled. "You mean the Trepies?"

"No, stupid," Irvine sighed turning around and splaying against the bar lazily as his eyes tracked a few of the more scantily clad girls shimmying across the dance floor. "Rinoa and Selphie. And what's-her-name. Y'know, that library chick you used to like. Have you been hearin' a word I said?"

"Nope," Zell admitted, though he was calming down enough to regain his basic motor skills. He turned around and instinctively started scanning the crowd for Quistis' crown of golden hair. The club really could be a rough place for newbies; he was feeling a little antsy at having left her alone. After a moment he spotted her, backed up against a corner table with Selphie. It looked like the smaller brunette was in the process of interrogating her thoroughly. He flushed slightly and wondered what Quistis was saying about him, drooping a little when he realized that it probably wasn't going to be complimentary.

"Listen, Irvy. I know what you're thinkin' an' what it looked like an' all, but there is no Quisty an' me. Tonight - that whole thing - that was all one big accident, man. Quisty doesn't like me like that. You saw how she was when Selphie came over."

Irvine remained silent for a few moments. Then, quietly, "But _you_ like _her._ "

Zell's breath hitched as Quistis glanced up from her argument with Selphie. Their eyes met, and he felt a prickly chill run down his spine. She looked away quickly, and he let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. "... yeah," he admitted in defeat. Then: "I really _am_ fucked, ain't I?"

Irvine frowned thoughtfully. "I dunno about that. If anyone can get Quisty over her hang-ups, I guess it'd be you. Hyne knows Selphie and Rinoa haven't been able to." He paused and let out a low chuckle. "Though Squall is gonna toast both of your asses if he finds out you've been screwing off during the mission. Nice work bringin' in Fujin, by the way. Squall only looked like he was gonna burst one vein this time instead of two."

Zell felt the pit of his stomach drop. Well, maybe some things could be worse than a rejection by Quistis. He guessed Squall's reaming when they got back to Garden would be a close one, at least.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on or what?" Selphie glared at Quistis, the steam practically rising from her head.

"There's nothing going on," Quistis said firmly, meeting Selphie's nonplussed glare directly. There were benefits to being the reigning Triple Triad queen, and bluffing was one of them.

"Something's up," Selphie stated, taking a long sip of her own drink and ticking the signs off on her fingers. "You're out late at night - you're in a club - you're supposed to be on a mission - and you're out with _Zell._ " She waggled the fingers at Quistis. "If I didn't recognize you, I'd really just say it couldn't be you at all."

Quistis delayed a response by taking the last sip of her drink - wait, _last?_ Had she really finished the whole beer? Her face was a little flushed, but she didn't really think it was from the alcohol. "I don't see what the problem is," she said coolly. "After all, you and Irvine are here, _after curfew,_ just like Zell and I."

"I know!" Selphie exclaimed. "It's just so - unlike you! I mean, all those times Rin and I tried to drag you here..." She shot Quistis a strangely cunning glare. "And you told that _stunningly attractive_ DJ that you wouldn't be caught dead in a club. So what, you'll come here with _Zell,_ but not on a _date?_ And not with us girls?" Selphie took a sip of her beer, and then sputtered excitedly: "But wait, I think he's here tonight! He always does the SeeD theme nights at the club, that's why Rin and I picked him in the first place! I bet he's at the table in the back right now! So if you're already here, and free, c'mon, why don't we go meet him?"

Quistis opened her mouth to make what she realized would only be another empty protest. But - much to her surprise, she wasn't feeling apologetic or even complacent: she was, in all honesty, feeling angry. Selphie's words, like the proverbial straw that broke the chocobo's back, had clearly summed up her latest failure: despite her ridiculously harlot-ish behavior on the dance floor, she _wasn't_ here with Zell on a date. She couldn't even get a date when she _wanted_ one. The best kiss she'd ever had was from a guy so desperate to date another girl that he'd - Quistis froze, a new realization coming to her. Had Zell been _practicing_ on her? Was he just practicing his kissing technique so he could blow Piggy off her feet on their first date? Her heart sank. Was Zell just using this as another lesson? Using _her?_

Her head spun. The more she thought about the entire situation, the angrier she got. Maybe it was the alcohol; maybe it was the whole-hearted sense of failure that had been trailing around after her ever since Ma Dincht had first smiled at them this morning. Maybe it was both.

"Selphie, no. I'm _done._ " Quistis set her empty glass down more firmly than she'd meant; the bottom of the glass splintered into shards, a spider web of cracks climbing the sides.

Selphie's eyes widened. Quistis turned on her, feeling the room spin around her slightly and blatantly ignoring it. "I'm done with the blind dates. I'm done with you and Rinoa trying to set me up. I'm through with all these Trepies that you two _insist_ I'll find true happiness with so that I can be just as _blissfully in love_ as you and Irvine or Rinoa and Squall." She swallowed hastily. "You two need to stop meddling in my life and leave it alone. I'm sick of it. What I do with my life is, frankly, none of your business."

Selphie put her hands up in defense. "Quisty, I'm just trying to help. What's the harm in meeting a nice guy?"

"What's the harm?" Quistis snapped. "Selphie Tilmitt, I will have you know: I'm having more fun here tonight with Zell than I've ever had on any one of your - or Rinoa's - so-called _perfect dates._ "

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she realized they were true. Quistis took a long breath and filed that thought away for future reference, because she certainly didn't want to think about it at that particular moment. Nor did she really want Selphie to realize what she'd just so stupidly admitted. "Come on, Selphie," she continued hastily, "would _you_ want to date a Trepie?"

Selphie winced. "Yes," said Quistis, realizing she'd finally hit on something. "Would you want to date some slobbering guy who knows all of your Training Center stats by heart and probably sleeps with your Triple Triad card?" She took another deep breath; apparently that last beer had gone to her head quickly and was now getting along fabulously with the tequila she'd previously downed. "You've got Irvine, true, and you guys are great together. But you and Irvine found each other. I'm not going to find an - an Irvine - by filing through Trepies one-by-one. I'm not going to find _anything_ if you and Rinoa keep picking guys for me based on availability alone."

Selphie looked as if she were contemplating actually dating a Trepie (or, perhaps, a "Tilmie"). She also looked as if she were going to be ill. "I - I guess you're right, Quisty," she said thickly. "I don't think I'd really want to date someone like that." She sighed. "Look. Rin and I were just trying to - to do you a favor. There were so many guys out there who wanted to date you - we figured one of them had to be nice."

Selphie looked honestly hurt; Quistis couldn't exactly bring herself to feel bad about her outburst, but she did want to make her friend feel better. "If you're going to do me a favor, then make it a different one. Let's go out some time. I mean it," she said as Selphie's gaze jerked up from the floor and landed on her face. "I - Zell dragged me out here tonight, and despite my best efforts, I'm enjoying myself. I feel bad for turning you and Rinoa away so often. I'd like to go and hang out sometime." She chuckled. "I guess I do need to get out of Garden and lighten up occasionally."

Selphie shook her head sadly, but the twinkle was slowly returning to her eyes. "I'm sorry, Quisty," she admitted. "I guess we weren't really thinking."

"It's alright," Quistis admonished firmly, "as long as it's over, starting right now." There was a pause, and then Selphie threw her arms around her taller friend. Bemused, Quistis hugged her back. It felt good to have Selphie back on her side. And it _had_ been a very long day.

"So," Selphie began, the cheerful deviant look back in her eyes, "there's really nothing going on between you and Zell? Hey," she said, raising her hands in defense once again. "I don't mean it in the nosy sort of way. I just - I thought he was dating that girl in the library, y'know? What's her name?"

Quistis' heart sank. "You mean Piggy?" she asked instinctively, almost snapping as she said it. The name had never suited the girl better, and she realized belatedly that she'd said it like the worst kind of insult. "Sue," she corrected herself hastily. "The one with the pigtail." Inwardly, she sighed. _This_ was completely inappropriate: Piggy - _Sue_ \- was a student of hers, and she couldn't even say the girl's name without getting an odd tense feeling in her chest: how would she ever be able to grade a paper fairly again?

"Yeah," Selphie said. "I thought they were ...?"

"Yes, the library girl." Quistis sighed. "Look, Zell is - Zell wants to date her." Even saying the words made something clench up in the general area of her heart. "I've been - he asked me for help, thanks to all the dates I've been on."

Selphie's eyes went wide. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "So the dinner date thing, and the - oh, so you were just helping him!" She grinned. "Quisty, that's so nice of you."

"Yes," Quistis said lamely, hoping the disappointment didn't show on her face. "Nice."

"I mean," Selphie chattered on, "you and Zell were never really close during the whole - thing - so it's totally awesome that you guys are getting to be friends now! And I bet he needs tons of help." She laughed. "Man, we kinda thought you guys were dating, like _real_ dating!"

Quistis bit her lip, not really knowing what to say. "No," she said finally, "nothing like that."

"Booyaka!" Selphie said suddenly, "Irvy's finally got a table. Gee, I'm glad Zell's here - he's so famous in this place, we can always get a spot to sit when he's around!" She turned and gave Quistis a wink. "Quisty, I promise I'll be better. Now, c'mon, let's go have some fun!"

Quistis let Selphie lead her back to the table. The petite girl dove almost head-first into Irvine's waiting lap; Quistis primly took a seat beside Zell. Her eyes flicked up to his, then away. He looked... she didn't really know how he looked. An awkward silence descended as Selphie and Irvine greeted each other rather enthusiastically. Quistis bit her lip. She didn't really know how she felt either. And, she decided firmly, this was ridiculous. Despite Ma Dincht's assumptions about her age, they were both adults. They should be able to talk about this like adults. Besides, _anything_ would be better than staying here to listen to the wet, suckling sounds Irvine and Selphie were making with each other.

"It's okay," she said suddenly. "Zell and I should head back." As she expected, Zell's head snapped around to face her, almost comically. "His Ma might be waiting up for us," she explained. "We're, er, we're staying there tonight as part of the mission." She stood up, meeting Zell's eyes clearly for the first time. Her stomach twisted a little - not an unpleasant feeling, but an unexpected one. "We - er." She cleared her throat. "Let's just keep this night between the four of us for now, alright?"

Selphie and Irvine, who were apparently distracted by the force of their lip-lock, nodded absently.

"Uh, see you guys," Zell said as he stood. Some nervous sort of feeling was crawling around in his gut like he'd swallowed a couple Bite Bugs. Quistis looked serious, and it wasn't even her stern Instructor-y seriousness; it looked _real._ As he silently followed her through the club, he couldn't get Irvine's words out of his head. Nah, there was no way. Right?

As they came up the stairs from _My Final Heaven,_ Quistis paused, and then turned the wrong way. He'd forgotten she'd never been down here before. "Uh, Quisty?" Zell said tentatively. "My house is that way."

"I know." A small ghost of a smile graced her lips. "Let's take a walk on the beach."

Zell nodded, swallowing. Part of him was panicking, a little: this looked like Quistis wanted to talk, and he wasn't really sure what to say or do and _oh, man,_ he was so _bad_ with girls, he was _totally_ going to screw this up. Another part of him was still reliving that kiss on the dance floor, this time in very clear, high definition hindsight that wished Irvine Kinneas had never showed up. A third, even smaller part of him was remembering suddenly and pointedly how nice the beach in Balamb always was at night, with the gentle lights of the town reflecting off the water and all the stars up above - it would make a really nice place to walk with a girl, holding hands, maybe kissing a bit if...

 _Dammit!_ Zell groaned aloud and shook his head. He'd been so distracted by his thoughts that he'd blindly followed Quistis to the beach without even noticing. They were walking along the shore in silence, the gentle sound of the waves almost automatically soothing his mind.

Quistis turned her head to him slightly at the sound. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, totally!" Zell said hastily, and then - "No," he admitted. "Maybe? I don't know." He didn't really want Quisty to think he didn't want to be out here, so he added for good measure: "I was just... thinkin'."

Quistis laughed. It wasn't exactly a _ha-ha_ sort of laugh. "I think," she said slowly, "that this is a little ridiculous. What's going on here?"

The waves continued to roll in. Somewhere behind them, someone's wild laughter echoed over the waters.

"I'm sorry, Quisty," Zell said suddenly, all in a rush. He hated silences on principle, and this one was just too tense for his liking. "I - I really didn't mean to, it was just the club 'n stuff, and with you dancin' an' all..." He swallowed as another flash of Quistis, pressed up against him, flew through his mind. "I - I ain't ever seen you dance before. Not like that."

Quistis laughed involuntarily, and this time it was a real laugh. "I've certainly never danced like that before, Zell," she pointed out, her voice almost flirtatious. Then she realized what she'd said and clamped her lips shut in surprise. The tension descended once again.

"I'm not sayin' you have, Quisty," Zell said. "I'm just sayin'... look, I'm sorry. I'm real sorry. It was just stupid, an' I -"

"You don't have to be sorry, Zell." Quistis was scrutinizing the sand at her feet; her step slowed until she was standing still, her eyes on the ground. "You don't have to be sorry," she repeated.

Zell turned to look at her, confused. "Whaddaya mean?" he asked bluntly, too surprised to think about what he was saying. "Of course I do, I practically - well, we almost - _y'know_ \- on the dance floor there, an' everybody could've seen if they were watchin', an'-"

"Zell." Now Quistis was looking at the ocean. "I'm not talking about your - choice of venue." There was a long pause, and Zell watched as Quistis fisted both her hands and swallowed, hard. "It was nice."

"Wha?" He took an inadvertent step towards her in surprise. "I mean, yeah, it was pretty awesome, but -" She still wouldn't look at him. "You ain't - mad at me or nothin'?"

Quistis looked up then, and the look in her eyes should've given Zell a warning. She took two brisk steps across the soft sand of the beach, grabbed Zell's shirt in both her fists, and pulled his lips down to meet hers. Zell's mind went blissfully blank with surprise as he felt Quistis' soft lips under his. His arms wrapped around her of their own accord, one closing around her waist and pulling her flush against him while the other hand buried itself in her hair, fumbling slightly as his fingers snagged on her hair clip. Quistis sighed, her lips parting beneath his, and he tentatively flicked his tongue against hers again. She pulled him closer, her fists still clutching his shirt; he felt her surprisingly delicate tongue moving almost uncertainly against his. He groaned aloud as that same rush of heat made its way through his body and moved downward. Hyne, it felt like his body was on fire.

He broke away slowly, opening his eyes. Quistis' face was flushed, her lips still parted slightly. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, coming to land on Zell's face. Her hands released his shirt suddenly; she bit her lip, her eyebrows creasing into something that looked like concern.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breathy.

Zell choked on a laugh as it surfaced. "Huh?" Out of all the things he'd expected from Quistis Trepe - anything out of the blue, even - that was probably the last one on the list. Well, he thought dimly, at least she wasn't mad at him.

Quistis looked away. Even in the dusky light, Zell could tell she was blushing. "I shouldn't have done that. I interrupted you."

"Wait a sec." Zell reached a hand out to cup Quistis' face, turning her gaze back upright to meet his own. "What're you sayin', Quisty - I, uh ..." He'd kind of lost the ability to string together a coherent sentence when Quistis was looking at him like that, with her eyes shining and her cheeks tinted pink. "Shit. I kinda - I kinda like it," he admitted, the words tumbling over his tongue before he could even think about them. He hadn't felt this much like a tongue-tied pre-teen since ...well, since at _least_ last week.

Quistis gave him a small, tentative smile, and he realized she was probably just as nervous as he. "Well," she said, straightening her shoulders a little. "What do you propose we do about it?"

 _Continue where we left off,_ his brain (and other parts) replied almost instantly. Instead, Zell dropped his hand and gave a nervous chuckle. "I, uh," he began awkwardly. "I mean - d'you like me? Like, _like_ like me?" _Oh, real smart there, Zell._ "Or d'ya just ... is it just 'cause we're ... y'know, spendin' time together, and stuff." She hadn't really said anything, so he felt the need to add something to help her out. "'Cause I, uh ... well, it feels like we like each other," he said helpfully.

Quistis shook her head delicately, taking a small step away from Zell. "What about - what about Piggy?" she asked softly.

Zell's heart plummeted into his feet. He'd _totally_ forgotten about Piggy. She'd been the start of this whole fiasco - in a sense, she'd been what had brought him and Quisty together in the first place. Well, her and Seifer, and a whole lot of toilet paper. Zell sighed, his stomach churning nervously. What _about_ Piggy? She'd been the ideal girl for so long - so how had he suddenly forgotten her? Man, he sucked at relationships. He didn't even _have_ one and he was already cheating on it with another woman.

Or was he? Quistis was standing there, looking sad and understanding at the same time. He'd never even really ... talked to Piggy. He'd certainly never joked around with her, or had her make him an awful dinner, or punched her in the gut to call up her Limit Break. He'd never kissed her, either, nor had he fantasized about her in his room. (Okay, maybe once.) Why was Quistis so much ... more? He didn't get it. With a loud, exaggerated groan, Zell spun away from Quistis and let himself fall backwards carelessly. He landed with a whump into the soft sand, spreading his arms wide and staring up into the dark sky, peppered with stars. A few of the bushes further up the shore rustled loudly, and Zell turned and squinted at them curiously. It was too dark to really make out anything other than black blobs against the sky, so he shrugged and forgot about it, falling back against the sand. _Prob’ly just some animals anyway,_ he thought absently. He let his eyes fall shut and wriggled slightly against the sand; it was refreshingly cool against his hot, flushed skin.

"Zell?" Quistis' voice sounded mildly confused. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just..." he trailed off, thinking to himself. Could he really answer that question? _Sure,_ he thought immediately. He was lying on the beach, looking at the stars, and trying to deal with the fact that he really was falling in love with Quistis Trepe. _Whoa, what?_ He turned his head to study her - she looked so cool and collected, standing there in the moonlight, her arms crossed and her face covered with half-shadows. He thought about Piggy, briefly, trying to remember the way she had made him feel, how she might look in Quistis' stead - and quickly gave up. No one could stand in Quistis' place except Quistis herself. This... _whatever_ he was feeling for Quistis, this was different from what he felt for Piggy. This was _real._ His head was still reeling a little from the notion, and it wasn't from the alcohol. He hadn't drunk that much, really; it was Quistis herself who was intoxicating him with her presence, making his thoughts run haphazardly into each other, melting into a confusing blur. One that only started coming into focus when he considered Irvine's words. It was the only answer that made any sense. He'd been decked by _love,_ the other four-letter word.

Quistis, for one, had noticed how crestfallen Zell had looked when she mentioned Piggy. And that was what did it for her. No matter how badly she wanted to throw Zell down into the sand, he was still off-limits. She only wished that he would stop making it so difficult to resist him. It really didn't help that he had thrown _himself_ into the sand at her feet. "Perhaps that was a little unfair of me. I - I think we're both not ready for the answer to that question." She pressed her lips together and tried to remind herself that this was all for the best, as Zell immediately looked to her, his mouth already opening.

"Whaddaya mean, we ain't ready -" The slightly wounded tone to his protest spurred Quistis to cut him off quickly.

"This isn't just about you. It isn't about me, either," she added quickly. "It's - there's the mission to consider, for one. It's a lot of things."

Even in the darkness, she could feel Zell's eyes boring into her, full of his usual blunt honesty. "No it ain't, Quisty. It's 'bout you an' me, and you know it." She heard the sand rustle as he shifted, and then he spoke again. "I like you, Quisty. I mean, yeah, I liked Piggy, too, but it's... different with you." He shuffled slightly, and Quistis realized suddenly that he was reaching for her ankle. His hand closed around her boot and tugged at it gently, beckoning her to join him.

 _This is a bad idea,_ Quistis thought to herself firmly even as she settled carefully against the ground next to Zell. Still, maybe he was on to something. The sand really did feel nice against her bare arms, and the gentle crash of the waves nearby was already easing the tension out of her shoulders. She gradually lay back and stared into the sky, blinking at the multitude of stars that were watching them. She spread her fingers out and shivered slightly as they brushed against Zell's own. Rather than shrinking away, however, his hand snaked over and grasped hers firmly, entwining their fingers together in a tight grip. Feeling slightly breathless and uneasy, Quistis forced the air out from her unwilling throat. "I'm different?" she repeated quietly.

"I don't really know Piggy," Zell admitted, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Not like I _know_ you."

Quistis grew still, feeling her heart pound loudly against her ribcage. Her eyes were wide and just a little bit frightened as she considered Zell's words. Strangely, they were more intimate than even their rather heady first kiss inside the club. Quistis didn't like to let anyone get close - doing that only opened yourself up for new ways to be hurt, as she had learned the hard way. So how in Hyne's name had Zell managed to worm his way in past her defenses? He was telling the truth - he _did_ know her better than anyone else. She didn't want Zell to be where he was - in some way, she was hoping Zell would turn away from her and go back to his _Piggy._ Hadn't she learned her lesson about keeping her walls up? She wasn't sure she'd be able to recover this time - nothing to blame except her own stupid, _stupid_ behavior.

Quistis lay very still, feeling terribly exposed and foolish and _weak,_ flinching when she heard Zell open his mouth once again.

"I never had a better day in my whole life, Quisty."

Something in her heart unclenched, and reflexively, her hand squeezed his back. And then, Zell rolled over, sending bits of sand flying everywhere. He was holding himself over her, his face too near and his body too warm, robbing her of the ability to dwell on her fears. She couldn't see the stars anymore; he blocked them completely, shadowing everything in darkness. Quistis had a sudden, intense feeling of vertigo, starting instinctively as her arms reached for him.

Their lips met, and this time was less panicked and desperate; there was a moment of clumsiness as they fumbled in the darkness, and then Zell was kissing her, moving his lips softly against hers in a wordless, formless question. _Do you feel it, too?_

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to lose herself in the kiss. But it wasn't nearly strained enough to rob her of her thoughts. She hesitated, but he was relentless, holding her down, daring her to twist away, to give him some signal to back off and leave her alone - and safe. _I..._

 _Do you?_ he asked, his kiss gradually becoming more demanding, his body drawing closer to hers.

 _I..._ She couldn't pull away from him, Hyne curse her and her stupid, idiot heart, when safety was just one word away, when one subtle motion was all it would take to secure herself before all her bridges burned. But she couldn't pull away. _I -_

His question, and her answer, were rudely interrupted by a sudden spray of cool water. Zell pulled away, nearly yelling in shock, and rolled off of her. Quistis lay there, panting, for a few moments, before she realized that her ankles were chilled - and her boots were soaking wet. Sitting up, she scrambled away from the incoming tide, the night air suddenly cool enough to raise goose bumps on her arms.

"Damn... sorry, Quisty," Zell grumbled, wiping the water from his skin. Then he looked up at her, his teeth gleaming brightly in the moonlight as he grinned. He laughed. "Shit, I'm soaked."

 _He can smile after that?_ Quistis wondered, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She cleared her throat uneasily, unsure of what to say, of what exactly had just happened, and struggled for her bearings. "Maybe we should take this indoors," she murmured softly. Then she flushed brilliantly. "I mean -"

"Naw, s'alright," Zell said, bouncing to his feet. He seemed... happier, than he had before, despite the evening's lack of resolution or answers. Her heart skipped a bit painfully in her chest, and she forced herself to look away. "We should get back home," he told her, offering her a hand and helping her to her feet.

"Zell," Quistis said, carefully dusting herself off and trying to avoid his gaze, "About tonight..."

"I mean it," he replied immediately. "Best night of my life." Then he paused, tilting his head, and gave her that smile, again. "Stop thinkin' so much about it, Quisty. Let's just go home."

Quistis sucked in her breath and collected herself, giving Zell a faint nod. Yes. Home. That sounded like a good idea. Although she had no idea how in Eden's seven hells she was supposed to get a good night's sleep in Zell's bed. Alone. She continued to brush miniscule particles of sand from her skirt, breathing evenly as she manhandled most of her composure back where it belonged. Once everything internal had settled back into place, she looked up again.

Zell was standing there, his hand extended. Her breath caught again, even at something so simple. _He doesn't really know what he's asking,_ Quistis thought, pausing as she looked at it. Holding hands was a simple, straightforward thing, right? No promises, no opening of doors, just the simple comfort of touch. Even that was hard; Zell had touched her more today than probably anyone else in her entire life - excepting perhaps Doctor Kadowaki, although clinical exams weren't anywhere close to whatever she and Zell had been doing tonight. But she'd never been the hugging, cuddling, touchy-feely sort. She hadn't even held hands with her foster mother.

And suddenly, Quistis _needed_ this: needed someone who _wanted_ to touch her, someone who _liked_ having her around. She reached out, slowly, her fingers closing around Zell's. He grinned, rearranging his grip so that their fingers were somewhat awkwardly intertwined, and turned to lead her off the beach. Quistis followed, slowly, relishing the feel of Zell's hand around hers. It still terrified her - but it was also strangely comforting.

They walked up the gravel path, noting that the lights of many of the clubs and bars had dimmed for closing. The pier looked deserted. Beside them, something rustled and grunted in the bushes; Quistis started, slightly, and then chastised herself for letting her guard drop. Seifer and Raijin were still out here, somewhere, and technically they hadn't signed out of their mission yet; see, it was obvious this whole thing with Zell was a mess -

"'Ey!" Zell yelled. "Get out of the trash!" He dropped her hand momentarily, scuffling around in the sand and stones at his feet until he picked something up - an empty bottle of Hynekan. He tossed it into the bushes; it hit the ground with a satisfying _thud._ The movement stopped.

"Dire Rats get down here sometimes," he explained, turning back to Quistis with a sheepish grin. "They scrounge around for trash an' stuff left-over from all the clubs. I try an' keep 'em away so's they don't attack the folks from town." He grabbed her hand almost instinctively. "C'mon, I think this one's prob'ly gone."

"You know they make traps for that," Quistis offered as he led her back onto the Balamb streets.

Zell chuckled. "Yeah, but like - it was part of the deal with _My Final Heaven,_ " he admitted sheepishly. "They figured if people saw me down here takin' out monsters an' shit like that, they'd be more likely to come. Makes it look safer."

"My hero," Quistis snorted, before she could help herself. The idea of Zell, Hero of Balamb, showing off over a couple one-hit monsters, amused her on some strange level.

Zell squeezed her hand, and even in the darkness she could tell he was waggling his eyebrows in that exaggerated way that always made her want to laugh. "That's the plan."

**.x.x.x.**

It was only once they were gone that Seifer released his firm grip on Raijin's ear.

"OWWWWW!" The large man let out a howl that would've scared any and all Dire Rats off of Balamb Island for good. "What the fuck, man! He hit me right in the eye!"

"I saw," Seifer deadpanned. "Thank Hyne you know how to keep your damn mouth shut."

"And!" Raijin turned on him, stumbling over the bushes in the darkness. "You almost tore off my entire fuckin' ear, ya know?"

Seifer sighed, a long, drawn-out sigh of patience and virtue. "That was to keep you from screaming your head off and drawing unnecessary attention. Like, for example, the attention of the Instructor and the Chicken-Wuss."

"Aw, c'mon," Raijin grumbled. "They wouldn't've seen us if we'd dropped a chocobo right on their heads."

Seifer said nothing. True, it had looked like an excellent opportunity for an ambush - until he'd realized what was going on. If there was one thing he'd learned from the Disciplinary Committee, it was that interrupting a hot and heavy make-out session usually led straight into a barrage of Limit Breaks. Not that they couldn't usually handle it - but the DC was currently a member short, and he and Raijin hadn't even fully healed yet, since they were unfortunately short on Cure spells.

"Don't you remember that one time we walked in on Alvarez and that lame freckled girl from the library? In the Secret Area?"

Raijin paused in thought. "Yeah," he said slowly, "wasn't that the first time the girl had ever done her Limit Break?" He shuddered. "I didn't even know a rod could do that kind of thing, y'know?"

"Right," Seifer said pointedly. "Did you really want to see what Trepe would've unleashed in the total frustration of not having Dincht down her trousers?"

Raijin winced. "Especially without Fujin here to heal us, ya know." He paused. "Stupid idiots. When we gonna go get her back, man? I can't take this. She had all the freaking jerky in her pocket."

Seifer said nothing. He'd just somehow realized what they'd actually been watching: Dincht and Trepe, getting a little nookie in the sand. What the _hell?_ Talk about most unlikely couples. Then again, they'd come out of that horrible disaster that Balamb called a club. Maybe they'd been shit-faced. He shook his head. Even drunk off his ass, he'd still know that Chicken-wuss looked nothing like Squall "Commander of Emo Belts" Leonhart. And Trepe was so cold she was probably a lesbian anyway. Wouldn't that be a right little shock the next morning.

"... an' now I have to sleep by the door," Raijin was still mumbling. "An' nobody'll kick me when I'm snoring."

Seifer stretched. It was time to hit the alleyway behind the clubs and see if any food - or more importantly, spare beer - was "available" for them to "borrow" tonight. He filed the Trepe/Chicken incident away in his brain. It would probably be useful, for blackmail anyway, or for the sake of taunting Dincht into a vicious red-faced rage before he beat the shit out of him with Hyperion.

"Interesting," he mused. "C'mon, Raijin. Nobody's gonna cook for us tonight."

 


	13. In Which Many A Good Intention Pave The Road

The solitary confinement cells in Balamb Garden served their purpose: simple and efficient, sparse without being cruel. Fujin knew that in the end she deserved the treatment; she had been preying on Balamb citizens, even if it was only for her own Slurpee fix and Seifer's odd craving for cigarettes. However, she was starting to think this punishment worse than the crime. Granted, it had only been a day, but... Fujin was _bored._

She couldn't really remember much about how they'd dropped her in here; she'd woken up to the violent and nauseating (yet familiar) feel of Phoenix Down, slumped on the floor in Balamb Garden's parking garage. PAIN. The kid who'd tossed the item on her - SQUINTY. LIBRARY. - had been instantly chastised by a voice Fujin found strangely familiar. COWBOY? As she'd worked her way into slight coherence, helped somewhat by some helpful SeeD's generous application of Cura spells, she'd recognized him as that Irvine chap that had traveled with Squall during the Sorceress War. YES. COWBOY. PERVERT. As soon as she'd placed the SeeD with the Cura spells as that Selphie girl who had transferred into Balamb Garden not so long ago, they'd hit her with a Sleep spell. FUCKERS.

She'd woken up as Squall Leonhart himself had - gently, she grudgingly admitted - placed her into the solitary confinement cell. BASTARD. She'd slept off the residual effects of the magic. SICK. She'd stared at the ceiling. BORING. She'd formulated forty-one escape plans: all but three were completely impractical, and the three that remained mostly involved either Seifer, Raijin, or a massive earthquake and power failure - which, in the end, wasn't all that different from the combined efforts of Seifer and Raijin anyway. IMPOSSIBLE. Fujin hoped they'd come soon. She was bored to tears, and she wanted a Slurpee really, really badly. SUGAR. Her last snack had actually been composed of sweets; unfortunately, Garden's idea of satisfying a prisoner's sweet tooth included a healthy mixture of raisins and prunes and not one hint of crystallized sugar anywhere in sight. YUCK. No, the days of double chocolate mousse were definitely over.

She heard someone working at the keypad to her door. Instantly brightening, Fujin sat up. HOPE. Maybe it was finally time for breakfast - or dinner, or whatever the hell meal time it was. Maybe it was someone who would actually talk to her. The possibilities for amusement were endless. She waited patiently as the code clicked in and the door slid open. Rinoa Heartilly let herself in, closing the door behind her.

Fujin almost laughed. PERFECT. TOO PERFECT. She and Rinoa hadn't ever really gotten along, but once the girl had dropped Seifer and ended up with Leonhart, Fujin had secretly declared her an enemy of the state. Rinoa had a temper on her and was quick to get angry - but she was also too immature to ever really have a good argument. A slow, almost evil smile spread across Fujin's face. Now, this was entertainment.

It wasn't until she looked up again that she saw the similar sly smile on Rinoa's face. "Hello, Fujin," the girl said, with a smirk that would've outdone Seifer himself. "How are you?"

"SHITTY." Fujin narrowed her eyes. What sort of game was Rinoa playing in here? She almost looked _evil._ She certainly looked angry.

Rinoa smiled sweetly. "Thought so," she said matter-of-factly. "It's alright, I'm sure you deserve it. There's no reason for us to just be welcoming you back, now is there?"

"INTERROGATION?" Fujin gave her a mocking glare. "SUCK."

Rinoa blinked in surprise. "I do not! And I'm not here to interrogate you. Well..." She coughed. "At least not officially."

Well, Fujin thought. Rinoa had always been a rule-breaker, even back in the days with Seifer; she'd done everything she could to make her father angry. Now she was breaking SeeD rules? "CODE?" Fujin asked, putting every insinuation she could into the word.

Rinoa blushed. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean." Then, upon further thought, she blushed more. "And I didn't - you know - um - Squall _gave_ it to me," she clarified in a quick rush of words that was much more like the Rinoa that Fujin remembered, "because I _asked._ "

"RIGHT." Fujin raised one silver-white eyebrow meant to express just how perfectly she remembered Rinoa 'asking' Seifer for things: dinners, shoes, rides on his bike, all with the same coquettish look and naughty glances towards half-covered cleavage. EASY.

"Anyway," Rinoa said angrily, seating herself in the chair across from Fujin: "I'm here to talk about Seifer."

"SEIFER." Fujin let it lay between them.

"Yeah." Rinoa tossed some hair over her shoulder, glaring at Fujin. "What, you guys think it's cool to run around the town and cause trouble? You've sure sunk pretty low this time."

Fujin said nothing. She knew if she waited long enough, Rinoa would keep talking. It had always worked, especially with someone as close-mouthed as Fujin herself. Besides, even the Balamb Bandits themselves knew they'd sunk low: having to steal toilet paper had brought new meaning to the words "embarrassment" as far as Fujin was concerned. And that didn't even touch on the levels of "disgusting" that Raijin had approached.

"I bet you all think you're pretty special. Pulling one over the town, getting away from Squall..." Rinoa sighed dramatically. "I bet you're real proud."

"MAKE DO," Fujin said, unable to keep the pride and sneer from her voice. And it was true - sure, so they weren't living in squalor anymore, drinking Dollet Blast and eating chocolate every day. But they'd made do, even in a town where no one wanted them - except, possibly, for Mrs. Dincht, who was certifiably crazy; she had raised the Chicken-Wuss, after all. POSSE. It wasn't as if it was particularly difficult to pull one over on Squall, anyway - although she'd never say as much to Rinoa's face.

"Isn't it a pity," Rinoa said sweetly, "that SeeD doesn't seem to view your little group's antics worthy of criminal prosecution? No, of course not. After all, you're the Posse, right? You're still Balamb Garden's own. They only wanted to rescue you - to bring you back and welcome you with open arms." She paused. "It's a shame you messed that one up, now isn't it? I don't understand it either."

Fujin bit her tongue. She wasn't _that_ stupid. There was absolutely no way pretty little Rinoa Heartilly was going to bait her with some stupid story about Balamb Garden bringing the lost chocobos back into the fold, or whatever. BULLSHIT. She could smell it a mile away.

"I mean," Rinoa continued, "why is everybody so set on greeting him when he comes in like he's some kind of hero? I know we won in the end, but Seifer still - he's just - well, he's not like a _bad_ bad guy, but he still wasn't a _good_ guy, especially not the kind of good guy who gets a party whenever he's found and oh-so-conveniently brought back to Balamb Garden, right? And _doubly_ especially when he's been causing all kinds of trouble in his hometown. Right?"

Fujin blinked. It sounded like Rinoa wasn't even speaking to her anymore. WHAT?

"It's because of the orphanage." Rinoa was almost rambling now. "They all grew up together in that orphanage, and so they think they can't abandon one of their own, or something, and - and that's all more important to them than the fact that he tried to feed me to that nasty Adel woman!"

"WAIT." Fujin held a hand up imperiously. Rinoa cocked her head in inquisitive interest.

"POINT." Fujin paused; how best to say this? "SEIFER - NOT BAD. JUST..." She paused, wishing for once she could depend on her unreliable voice. Contrary to popular belief, Fujin didn't speak in her monosyllabic shouts by choice. Well, actually, most of the time she did; people tended to be stupid, and Fujin found that short, simple commands barked in harsh tones was generally the best way to get a point across. There were times, however, when she wished that her throat would cooperate with the rest of her thoughts, and allow her to be as eloquent and long-winded as - well, Rinoa Heartilly. Swallowing, she coaxed the words out of her raw throat. "STUPID."

Rinoa snorted. "Understatement of the year, Fujin."

"STUPID," Fujin affirmed. "BLIND. AMBITION." She paused again. "SORRY."

"He's not sorry," Rinoa ground out reflexively, but then her face crumbled into something like surprise, and, quite possibly, hope. "Is he?"

"SECOND," Fujin continued, ignoring Rinoa for the time being. Something more pressing was on her mind. "PARTY? AND," she corrected herself, "THIRD. ADEL. WOMAN?"

Rinoa laughed despite herself. She'd always had a graceful laugh, something Fujin had been envious about and yet never admitted. "Yeah, Adel was a woman, although she didn't look like one." She shuddered involuntarily. "And that's what I mean! Seifer handed me over to that ridiculous - she-male!"

Fujin snorted in laughter, unable to really help it.

"So, seriously," Rinoa said, coming right back to her bad mood as if nothing had ever happened. "Why are they so intent on bringing Seifer in? What's he done that's so great that he gets a super-special party? I'm so confused."

Fujin raised an eyebrow again. "PARTY?"

"Yeah." Rinoa sighed wistfully. "Squall's throwing him this welcome-back party or something... or maybe it's a birthday party, I honestly can't remember at this point. Selphie and Irvine are involved - you know Selphie and Irvine, right? They're the ones - " She stopped at Fujin's crisp nod. "Yeah, anyway, everyone _knows_ Selphie throws the _best_ parties, and there's going to be some kind of cake buffet, and it's like everything's okay, like they've all forgiven Seifer for what he did."

Fujin said nothing. PARTY? And here they'd thought that the Instructor and the Chicken-Wuss had been hunting them down to take them into BG for interrogation and probably imprisonment. Neither one of them had said anything about a _party._ CAKE BUFFET. Her mouth was already watering.

Rinoa turned, her face flushed red and her eyes glittering with anger. "How did you?"

"WHAT?"

"Forgive him."

Silence fell. Fujin thought. Of course she'd forgiven Seifer: he'd been stupid, yes, but there were Sorceress powers to take into consideration here. And Seifer was in the Posse, and the Posse was - it was something special, something you didn't just turn your back on. FRIENDS. Something stronger. He'd kept them together after the war, when Fujin and Raijin had been struggling and Seifer himself had been plagued with nightmares he'd never admit to.

She nodded, trying to choose words that would help Rinoa understand. "SEIFER... NOT BAD." She paused. "BLIND. STUPID. AMBITIOUS. SORCERESS... TEMPTING. POWER." She looked at the floor. "BUT. NOT EVIL. NEVER..." her voice wavered and broke, and she coughed once, painfully. Finally, she looked up again, her one eye burning, trying to impart understanding onto the stubborn girl before her despite the clumsy explanation. "SEIFER - FRIEND. POSSE. GLUE. DESERVES... second chance," she finished, her voice finally giving out a little weakly.

Rinoa looked at her, but it was less angry than before. "It was just okay for him to turn on everybody, turn on you guys, turn on _me?_ "

Fujin rolled her eyes and coughed. "YOU? NO FRIEND."

"I know." Rinoa huffed and slumped a little in her chair. "I just - he shouldn't get to come back like everything he did was okay!"

"RINOA." Fujin sighed. She was sick of this: sick of Rinoa trying to center everything around herself, sick of shouting herself hoarse and still not being heard and especially sick of not having anything resembling a Slurpee in front of her. Her voice was cracking, and she would settle for a glass of water at this point, sugared or not. But she couldn't keep silent against Rinoa's aimless, rambling tirade - the princess had to realize that not everything revolved around her and her precious Squally-boy. "SEIFER. HATED. IN BALAMB."

"Yeah, I know. Why he would even come here is... why did you guys come here, anyway?"

"GARDEN."

Rinoa blinked. "You guys came back here just for Garden? What, to torment people? Or do you guys want to come back?"

"GARDEN... SEIFER. TOGETHER. GOOD." Fujin shrugged. "FOR EVERYONE." As the words left her mouth, she thought about it. It was true - it had been Garden that had brought the Posse together, back when Raijin was a starving little runt that got picked on and Fujin was the freak-girl with the eye patch and no voice. Seifer had picked them up, offering them protection while at the same time refusing to coddle or pity them. It had been Garden's rigorous training that had helped Raijin fill out his frame, and had helped Fujin find balance and perception through one eye. It had been Garden that had pushed Seifer to get better. And BG had rewarded the three of them through the formation of the Disciplinary Committee.

Besides, for the past couple months all they'd eaten was half-cooked fish, cheesy-puffs and stolen jerky. Who was she to say no to a cake buffet? Maybe Balamb Garden was, honestly, the best place for the Posse.

Rinoa bit her lip. "Then what are you waiting for? Garden's right here."

Fujin raised her head with pride. "BEG?" she asked plainly, the scorn evident in her voice.

"So you honestly think Squall's going to just invite you back into the Garden?" Rinoa scoffed, but looked a little unsure of herself.

"SEIFER. SQUALL." Fujin paused, trying to think of the correct words. No, she'd never really understood the strange dichotomy between Seifer and Squall, either; but at this point, for some reason, it was vitally important that she make things clear to Rinoa. "RIVALS."

"Yeah, I know," Rinoa replied. "Which is why this whole thing makes no sense. If they don't like each other, why's Squall so keen to get Seifer back in here? And why's Seifer so keen to come back anyway?"

"NO," Fujin barked. "SEIFER PUSHES. SQUALL PUSHES. MAKES BETTER." She swallowed. "RESPECT. MUTUAL." Fujin knew that if Seifer heard her discussing any sort of respect as directed towards the King of Puberty, he'd be pissed. But it was true, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Rinoa looked softly thoughtful now. "Oh, I see," she said slowly. "So that's - hmm." She shut her mouth with a snap, thinking.

There was another rap on the door. "Oh!" Rinoa squeaked, jumping up from the chair. The door slid open, and she took what looked like a tray while smiling and thanking the person on the other side. Fujin only had a hint of dark SeeD uniform before the door snapped shut. Rinoa turned around, shyly offering Fujin the tray.

"I had them bring this down for you from the Cafeteria," she said. Fujin took the tray hungrily. It was a plate of hot dogs - three of them - with macaroni and cheese and a tall cola beside it. FOOD. She set upon the hot dogs instantly; she hadn't had real food in so long that even the standard-issue Garden dogs tasted like a Balamb Bounty specialty. Maybe it _would_ be for the best to get Seifer to come back to Garden. DELICIOUS.

"So," Rinoa said with a sigh, plopping down in the chair again. Her apparent anger and irritation had seemingly vanished, replaced with some sad sort of resignation. "Do you think you can convince Seifer to come back?"

"FREE," Fujin demanded around a mouthful of hot dog. If they thought she was going to do it from inside this crappy cell somehow, they were idiots.

"No," Rinoa said thoughtfully. "I don't think they'll let you out. What about - what about being bait, then? Bringing Seifer in that way?"

Fujin shook her head violently. "DISGUSTING." She swallowed, chasing the hot dog with cold cola. "NEVER."

"Are you sure?" Rinoa tilted her head, a teasing smile on her lips. "C'mon, just go on out there and convince Seifer things are better off in here. Not hard, right? You agree with me, right?"

"YES." Rinoa perked up, and Fujin smirked. "BUT. NO," she followed up immediately, shrugging and slamming the cola back onto the tray with unnecessary force. "NOT TRAITOR." There was no way she'd ever do something like that. In all honesty, there was no way Seifer would fall for it either. But she wasn't going to disgrace herself like that. No, sir, she'd sit in this room with hot dogs and cola for as long as it took. Seifer deserved the right to make his own decisions.

**.x.x.x.**

Quistis eyed Squall's desk curiously. She squinted at it and then frowned. It _was_ shorter than before. She managed to keep her internal smirk from surfacing on her face, however; apparently the custodial department had finally cut the Commander's personal funding. Actually, technically speaking, they'd been dying to have the chance to do that ever since Squall had crashed B-Garden into Fisherman's Horizon. The result was a very short, almost legless desk. She had to admit, it did appear sturdier this way. There wasn't very much left of it to break, in any case.

Squall's fist came down onto the top of the (shortened) desk with a thump, and the now-familiar sound of wood splintering filled the otherwise silent office.

Well, even she could be wrong sometimes, Quistis thought to herself.

"Where is he?" Squall growled, and Squinty - who was seated next to Quistis - let out a tiny whimper of fear. Quistis rolled her eyes and sighed. The nearsighted librarian looked worse for the wear; his glasses were still in a sorry state of disrepair, thick white electrical tape binding the smashed frames into place. His cadet uniform had made a miraculous recovery, but the shining, gold-plated Library Committee bars were conspicuously absent. He also no longer tried to catch her eye, she had observed - altogether, she considered _that_ to be a vast improvement. Turning her attention back to Squall, she cleared her throat cautiously.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon, sir. You did schedule the meeting for oh-nine-hundred hours, and technically speaking, it _has_ only been two minutes, which is well within -"

"Don't quote protocol at me, Quistis," Squall cut her off. His temper was shorter than usual today, and Quistis had a sneaking suspicion that it had more reasons than just Seifer alone. Seeing the dangerous look on Squall's face, however, she kept her opinions to herself. She did manage to silently hope that Zell would put in his appearance before she ran out of excuses to cover for him. Thankfully, Hyne answered her quiet request, and the door to the office flung open.

Zell raced in, his face red and panting for breath. He opened his mouth to give his usual excuse for being late - and shut it again immediately when he saw Squall's expression. Closing the door quickly, he hurried to the empty chair on Quistis' other side, mumbling a half-audible apology.

"Thanks for joining us, Zell," Squall greeted sourly. "Take a seat."

Zell, for his part, had actually spent a good portion of the previous night awake. That was mostly because the couch was _really_ lumpy - he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and hoped Squall didn't notice - but also because his thoughts had been chasing each other around a certain blonde hours after he had turned in. One who had spent the entire night in HIS bed, he thought with a touch of pride. Nevermind that he wasn't in it - _uh, not a good thought to be thinking right before Squall goes all berserk on us._ He tried to ignore the Quistis part of the equation, and thought about his bed wistfully. His soft, comfortable, very lump-free bed. One he wouldn't mind seeing again right now, he figured to himself as he stifled a yawn. With _or_ without Quistis in it. Though the "with" was definitely sounding loads more appealing... He stole a glance at Quistis, feeling his face redden slightly - he'd been hoping for a chance to talk to her before Squall brought out the heavy artillery. She looked a little haggard, for Quistis - there were dark smudges under her eyes, and she was slumping subtly in her chair in a way he might not have noticed a week ago. Things were different now, though. Different _good._ He found himself grinning dumbly at Quistis despite their situation, unable to help himself. And, he noticed with a spark of interest, that _she_ noticed, too.

Squall, unfortunately, had also noticed. "Why are you so damn happy?" he snapped, fixing a baleful glare onto Zell. Zell quickly wiped the smile off of his face, and Squall focused his attention on Quistis next. Quistis straightened in her chair and remained very, very still. "Report!" Squall barked at her, with none of the usual pleasantries. Admittedly, when Squall was in his office, he was hardly ever pleasant anyhow, but now he was downright _pissed_ and everyone knew it.

Being around Squall when he was in one of his moods normally would have sent Quistis into a matching irritable funk. Today, however, she felt strangely free of the personal guilt and insecurity that usually followed on the heels of one of Squall's meltdowns. Granted, she was dead tired; sleeping in the bed of the boy - no, _man,_ she corrected herself - she had very nearly molested in the middle of Balamb's hottest nightclub tended to do that to a person. She coughed discreetly into her hand and tried to ignore Zell's presence at her side; Squall looked like he would need a visit to Dr. Kadowaki if he didn't get an answer soon. Work came first, she could play later. Wait, _play?_ She choked on the thought and quickly pushed it away, instead choosing to look Squall in the eye and begin her rehearsed speech in clear, crisp tones.

"Sir. I believe our mission was a success."

Squall stared at her with a look of disbelief, and Quistis cleared her throat self-consciously.

"While we were unable to bring in either Seifer or Raijin, we did apprehend Fujin, thereby crippling the Balamb Bandits. There've been no further reports of suspicious activity within the city since the operation." Squall's look of incredulity hadn't faded, but at least his mouth remained tightly shut. Encouraged, she continued the report quickly. "Additionally, we now have a lead on Seifer and Raijin's whereabouts. With this information, we'll be able to formulate a plan to capture them at our next encounter." She blithely continued despite Squall's growing frown; whether or not there would even _be_ a 'next mission' was still apparently a matter of debate. "We did what we could with what we had," and here she directed a depreciatory glare at Squinty, who hunched over a little more, "... and no significant damage was incurred to the town itself. Additionally, all members of our team escaped from the confrontation free of injury."

At this Squinty gave a tiny squawk of protest, which everyone ignored.

"While I would recommend that certain _aspects_ of the team be reevaluated before the next encounter, I'm confident that our next engagement with Seifer will be a success." She shut her mouth and leaned back, hoping that Squall would simply sigh and _"whatever"_ them before sending them on their way. That, of course, would be too simple, though. Squall was growing into the position of a Commander, no matter how little he liked the role; even he was starting to realize that sometimes, resolving a situation required more than a simple monosyllabic answer and a gunblade. Still, she noted, it was irksome that he was choosing to flex those leadership muscles _now,_ of all times.

Leaning forward on the desk, which creaked ominously, Squall steepled his fingers together and fixed his icy glare on Quistis. "You were supposed to bring Seifer in on _this_ mission, Quistis."

Quistis winced as she heard, more than saw, Zell opening his mouth to protest loudly. She was warmed slightly by the knowledge that he was most likely going to stick his sneaker right into his mouth in a misguided attempt to defend her from Squall's wrath. She did silently wish, however, that he'd just sit back and keep his mouth shut - she was the expert in dealing with Squall, and, all things considered, she didn't want Zell getting into more trouble than he already was. Good intentions aside, Zell simply didn't have the finesse to massage his way back into Squall's good graces if he really stepped in it this time. Before Zell could attract Squall's attention, however, he was saved by a timely intervention from the most unlikely of sources.

"Y-you just don't understand!" Squinty suddenly burst out loudly, looking up and glaring at Squall. "You - you didn't tell us we'd be fighting _Seifer Almasy_ and his entire Posse! He's - he's a MONSTER, I tell you! You don't know what he's like! With all due respect, sir, you haven't been tortured by him! **_I_** _was!_ He can't be taken down by ordinary SeeDs!"

Quistis smirked and leaned back. She decided at that moment that it would be an excellent time to 'forget' about Squall's experiences in the dungeons of the Desert Prison at Seifer's hands. She could always blame it on the GFs.

Squall remained ominously silent for several beats, staring at Squinty in disbelief. Both Quistis and Zell were temporarily forgotten as his face became so stony that he could have stood in as a replacement for Balamb's battered memorial fountain. "Don't know what he's like," he echoed faintly. The cadet did have the good sense to stop glaring at him accusingly, though the pout remained clearly visible in the squinting boy's expression. Squall blinked, trying to ignore the blinding white rage that was threatening to spill over into a Limit. The custodial department wouldn't even fix his desk right now, let alone repair the office walls if he managed to destroy them. _Not tortured by Seifer?_ All mental grievances aside, he _still_ got a little twitchy every time something electric short circuited around him. Fingers clenching spasmodically against his desk, Squall turned back to Quistis with a look of unnatural calm on his face.

"... as I was saying, you didn't apprehend Seifer and you got this..." He directed a frigid stare at Squinty here, "... _cadet_ to bring in Fujin." He leaned forward, glowering, his voice low and scathing. "Why did you stay in Balamb? You know you should've reported back to Garden immediately after your failure." His eyes flitted away from Quistis and landed on Zell, narrowing slightly. "Wait, don't tell me. _Something came up._ "

Zell, who had for the most part been observing the spectacle silently - hey, it was actually starting to get kinda entertaining when Squinty opened his mouth - winced and frowned at Squall. Boy, he was really in one of his funks today - for once Zell had been inclined to take a page out of Quistis' book and just let her do all the talking. But he couldn't keep his mouth shut, not when Squall was glaring at him like that. Unabashedly, he returned Squall's glare with a scowl. "I was lookin' after Ma, alright? You know how it is."

"SeeDs on active duty do not take breaks to _visit their mothers!_ " Squall ground out, and Quistis started slightly in her seat. Those words sounded familiar - hadn't she said something similar to Zell at the start of all this herself? She frowned, studying Squall, who was admittedly not performing at his best today. He was a tense bundle of nerves, repressed anger and ill humor. He looked like crap, and his current personality was even worse. _Did I used to be like that?_ Reflecting on her own behavior, she supposed she had more been like this current incarnation of Squall than she would've liked to admit - so tightly wound up in her duties to Garden that they had taken over her entire life. No wonder Rinoa and Selphie had been so persistent in their attempts to loosen her up. It was a shame that Rinoa wasn't here to loosen _Squall_ up.

"But she's my Ma," Zell was saying through clenched teeth, suddenly angry. Sensing danger, Quistis quickly intervened.

"Squall," she interrupted firmly. "As I said, the mission was NOT a failure. We did a thorough investigation. And _most_ of us worked together quite well."

Squinty studied his boots and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

Squall, on the other hand, graced them with another one of his elliptical responses. It wasn't looking too good; apparently, for all of Squall's noisemaking about _teamwork_ and _cooperation_ at the start of the mission, that alone wasn't going to be enough to satisfy him. Nothing short of Seifer's head on a silver platter was likely to satisfy him, but she could still try for the next best thing.

"We were searching for the missing van," Quistis threw out, grasping at straws.

Like a wounded beast, Squall turned on her immediately. "You didn't bring back the van. You brought back _cookies,_ " he spat.

"Hey! Don't diss Ma's cookies!" Zell yelled, earning himself yet another glare. Zell frowned to himself. Sure, they'd brought back a plate of Ma's homemade cookies for Squall. He'd figured it might have helped ease up Squall's temper. Ma's cookies were _awesome,_ they _never_ failed. _Dang,_ he figured with a sinking feeling. If the cookies weren't working, that could only mean one thing - Squall and Rinoa must've been fighting about something or other, _again._

"You're not getting out of trouble this time," Squall snarled. "Those cookies are _evidence_ of your team's complete irresponsibility!"

Quistis mentally rolled her eyes. Cookies as evidence? Well then, she'd just have a little chat with Rinoa about releasing Angelo into Squall's quarters. Then she frowned. That might be harder than it looked; if Squall's mood was this thunderous, it was most likely because he was still arguing with Rinoa. After all, Ma Dincht's cookies _never_ failed. Projecting her most placating voice, Quistis tried to save the situation - and Squall's blood pressure - one more time.

"Ma Dincht was our _lead,_ Squall. Thanks to our _investigation,_ " she said, stressing the last word, "we've managed to gather all the information we need to launch a successful strike against Seifer and Raijin. We now know where the Posse has been hiding for the past few months."

Zell scratched his head. "We do?" he repeated cluelessly. Seeing the flash of annoyance pass over Quistis' face, he quickly corrected his tone. "Uh, I mean, yeah!" he supplied helpfully, adding a few vigorous nods for effect.

Squall sank back against his chair, regarding the three of them critically. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. "Well, at least there's that. Don't think I'm letting the three of you off that easy, though," he added quickly as he noticed Zell relaxing into his chair. "Quistis. I want a full write-up on my desk by tomorrow."

Quistis nibbled at her lip. Squall's request wasn't entirely unreasonable, at least not for her; usually, Quistis took it upon herself to present him with a full write-up of her missions _before_ the debriefing was conducted anyway. Of course, there was nothing _usual_ about the mission this time. She hadn't bothered to create a report because it had simply slipped her mind - the lack of sleep, coupled with the early morning journey back to Balamb had just about decimated what little concentration she had left after dealing with Zell. Her eyes grew unfocused as she reviewed her morning - which consisted mainly of lounging on the couch in her quarters, staring at the chocobo plushy she'd stolen from Zell's bedroom. With its innocent glass blue eyes and distinctive tuft of yellow feathers, it had reminded her of him in a cute, disarming sort of way. It was a risk, though. If Rinoa or Selphie ever got wind of Quistis keeping a plushy in her quarters, she knew she'd never hear the end of it. Next, they'd probably encourage her to start collecting toys, whimsical mugs, or - perhaps even a pet of her own. Rinoa's ever-present glitter pens were indignity enough. She felt the weight of Squall's stare interrupting her daydreaming, and with a guilty start, focused on him once more.

"You're slipping, Quistis," Squall observed. Then, for a moment, the near-permanently ingrained scowl on his face faded, and his eyebrows lifted in something that, coming from Squall, could almost be taken for concern. "Is something wrong?" he asked hesitantly. "You look... different."

The cobwebs cleared instantaneously. She'd been caught daydreaming about Zell, and by Squall, no less. For a moment, she almost felt guilty. Then, abruptly, she reconsidered. Squall hadn't noticed her looking _different_ even when she had thrown herself rather embarrassingly at his very own feet. His newfound concern over her mental health was probably thanks to Rinoa's ongoing efforts to socialize him, but his timing was spectacularly bad, and Quistis couldn't quite tamp down the vindictive smirk she directed towards Squall completely. "Nothing particularly new, _sir,_ " she shot back primly, straightening herself in her chair. Squall blinked. "Nice of you to finally notice," Quistis muttered under her breath, raising a challenging eyebrow in Squall's direction. _Go ahead, Squall. I **dare** you._

Squall didn't reply; the moment of concern passed, and he fell easily back into his much more typical sourness. "Suspensions, for all of you," he snapped. "Quistis, you'll take another week off of teaching."

Quistis, who was still feeling particularly uncharitable towards her Commander, shrugged slightly. "Your loss," she muttered under her breath, earning her a poorly muted grin from Zell.

"And you," Squall continued, pointing at Squinty. "Consider this a demotion, cadet. I don't know how you landed any kind of responsibility in the Library in the first place, but as of now you're relieved of any and all Committee duties."

Squinty's mouth flapped open and closed, and he shot up from his chair. "But - but - you can't do this, sir! I'm the Head of the Library Committee! I'm too important to be demoted!"

Squall's eyebrow raised fractionally. "Oh. Well, in that case, consider this a promotion. I'm assigning you to the Custodial Department. The Sanitation team could use an extra hand, and I'm sure your invaluable skills will come in handy down there."

Squinty let out another undignified squawk and Quistis bit back a smile. Zell, however, was not quite as discreet.

"Serves ya right, ya bastard!" he crowed, making an ugly face at the shell-shocked cadet.

Quistis didn't quite manage to keep her forehead from hitting her palm.

"And you," Squall cut in dangerously. "Effective immediately, I'm curbing your access to the Training Center." His statement had the desired effect on Zell, who immediately wilted into a disappointed pout.

"Aww, maaaaan! C'mon, Squall..."

Squall ignored him, instead clasping his hands together and leaning his forehead into them, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Shut up and get out. All of you, right now," he clarified.

Quistis knew that expression; she'd sported it herself many times, though usually only when receiving particularly bad news, such as the coffeemaker being broken. Standing quickly, she motioned impatiently for Zell to move to the door. Then, in an unusual burst of charity, she grabbed onto the back of the still shell-shocked Squinty's uniform and hauled him out of Squall's office behind her. She released Squinty once they were outside, giving him a cold glare. "Get down to the Custodial Department immediately, cadet," she said in her best scathing tones. Then, crisply, she addressed Zell. "You're with me." Without waiting to see either response, Quistis turned on her heel and strode out of the Command Center.

Zell trailed silently after Quistis, his mind for once not on Squall's chastisements, but rather the woman in front of him. Quistis certainly hadn't been this cold with him... y'know, _before._ He eyed her hand speculatively; should he hold it? That seemed to have worked well last night. Mildly nervous, he sidled up to Quistis' side and furtively reached for her gloved hand. Their fingers touched, briefly, and then Quistis snatched them away. Zell jumped, surprised by her violent reaction, and looked at Quistis with disbelief and confusion. There was no way he could've misread her last night, right?

Quistis pinned Zell with a stern look and leaned in. "Not here, Zell!" she whispered fiercely.

Frowning and feeling somewhat hurt by her rejection, he crossed his arms. "Why not?"

Rolling her eyes with an air of long-suffering patience, Quistis inclined her head slightly towards a pair of students chatting by the wall. "Trepies," she whispered softly, and Zell instantly recoiled, almost leaping away from Quistis before she grabbed his arm and pulled him back in quickly. "Try to act natural. Just keep your eyes open and listen," she instructed him carefully.

Gulping, Zell glanced around the hallway nervously as they continued through the crowds of students. Occasionally, Quistis would lean in and tilt her head towards one group of students or the other, indicating which ones were Trepies, sometimes accompanied by terse warnings. There were a whole lot more than even Zell had guessed - he hadn't realized how widespread the Trepie network really was. Boys, girls, even some of the Garden _staff_ were card-carrying members. He struggled to pay attention to Quistis' murmured warnings; she was speaking quietly so as not to be overheard, and as a result had to lean in quite often to make herself audible. The only thing that really was keeping him from losing his concentration completely was the fact that knowing how to identify Trepies was going to become a matter of survival. Especially, he thought to himself, if he couldn't manage to keep his wandering hands away from Quistis' long hair.

They finally arrived at the door to Quistis' quarters; a quick survey of the hallway ensured that they were alone, and Zell let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Whoa, Quisty. It's like big brother is watchin' you everywhere," he observed, bouncing on his heels.

"Tell me about it," Quistis replied dryly as she swiped her card through the reader. The lock opened with a quiet click, and Quistis' hand hovered uncertainly over the door handle. "Zell..." she said uncomfortably, finally meeting his eyes. He nearly blinded her with a wide, easy smile. "... would you like to come inside?"

Zell's restless jittering slowly came to a stop. She was asking him if he wanted to come inside _her_ room? Well... it wasn't as though he hadn't seen it before, he rationalized, but that study date seemed like it was miles away, now. Then again, _she_ had been inside of _his_ room. But he hadn't been there at the time. He scrubbed at his neck nervously; he knew he wasn't the best student to be picking up cues from Quistis' dating instructions, but he was fairly certain there were supposed to be a few more steps in-between 'admitting that you like a girl' and 'getting invited into her dorm room.'

Quistis fidgeted impatiently, her eyes still darting around the hall warily. She froze as she saw a couple of students rounding the corner and swore under her breath. _Trepies._ A decision had to be made, post-haste. "Let me make this easy for you," she hissed, grabbing onto Zell's vest and yanking him inside of the room.

Zell, still utterly confused, decided he would just follow Quistis' lead in this case. She was the one who knew more about this dating stuff anyhow, right? Maybe it was normal for the girl to be this aggressive. In any case, he wasn't complaining. "If you say so, Quisty," he grinned, wrapping his arms around her as the door shut behind them.

Quistis only had time to make a muffled noise of protest before his lips were planted firmly on hers. For a moment, she stood still, surprise allowing Zell to get away with kissing her eagerly even if he was still a little clumsy at it. Her eyes fell shut as several thoughts began to trickle through her mind, ranging from _well, this is much better than coffee_ to _did I remember to brush my teeth?_ Eventually, one managed to surface above all others - _Hyne, I need sleep_ \- and she carefully pushed Zell away.

He reluctantly released her, a confused expression on his face. "Wha, did I do it wrong?" he asked worriedly.

Biting back a laugh, Quistis shook her head and pushed past Zell, waving him towards the couch. "No. No, that was... fine, Zell." Seeing his disappointed look, she allowed a muted smile to surface. "More than fine," she added.

An innocently hopeful look plastered itself across Zell's face. "How much more?" he asked eagerly, bouncing on her couch.

Quistis dropped her head and covered her mouth, unable to prevent the laughter that bubbled up. "Good enough for now," she answered with a smirk. "We can practice more later."

Zell stopped bouncing and settled himself comfortably on her couch, letting his head loll backwards against the cushions. "Yo, I think this might be the first time I ever wanted to pay attention in class," he observed. He let a goofy grin slide across his face as he shut his eyes. "Y'know, you're really cut out for this Instructor stuff, Quisty."

Quistis frowned lightly and crossed her arms over her chest. She still wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't making a gigantic mistake, letting Zell into her life like this. She wasn't even sure letting Zell into her room had been a good decision. Then again, that unexpected kiss had felt rather nice... She tilted her head and studied Zell, who was currently sprawled across her couch as if he owned it. Well, at least he didn't seem to have a problem making himself comfortable, she observed, as she took the opportunity to let her eyes trail over him slowly -

Quistis froze, her gaze fixed on the incriminating tuft of yellow feathers that was peeking out between the cushions at Zell's side. She calculated her options quickly; if Zell moved, he would see it. Then, she could either admit taking it - and have to explain why - or, she could claim it wasn't _his_ chocobo that was nestled in her couch. Anyone could collect those plushy toys. After all, they were cute and endearing and very homey... Okay, so maybe lying wasn't a possibility. That left only one other viable option.

Quickly, Quistis seated herself next to Zell. He turned his head towards her lazily and cracked an eye open, the weariness evident in his face. It looked like Zell was just as exhausted as she was, no matter how deceivingly energetic he might have appeared earlier.

"Quisty?" he asked curiously.

The chocobo was maddeningly close to his thigh. There was no subtle way she'd be able to extract it without him noticing. Well... Zell wasn't the most subtle of guys. Steeling herself, Quistis took a deep breath and threw herself at him, her face already flaming with embarrassment.

"WHOA!" Zell yelled, gasping out a loud _oof!_ of surprise as she landed on him. He had been drifting pleasantly on Quistis' couch, already halfway on the path to a comfortable nap. Absently, he had hoped she wouldn't mind him crashing in her room, if just for a few minutes - he was completely wasted from last night and Squall's early morning lecture hadn't helped, either. Now, however, he was starting to wonder if it really had been a good idea to let her drag him into the room - not that having Quistis pressed up against him, seeking his lips for yet another kiss was really a bad thing - but _hoo-boy,_ was she aggressive! He figured he should probably pay more attention to what she was doing - he had a feeling that slacking off during Quistis' current line of tutelage would produce a lot deadlier results than falling asleep in class had. And, he supposed, as he began to warm to her insistent, demanding attentions, it wasn't really all that bad. Maybe he wasn't really THAT tired after all...

Quistis was fidgeting with the couch cushions next to him, and he broke the kiss off to stare at her. "Uh, Quisty, what're you doing?"

"Nothing," she answered too quickly. He heard something hit the floor behind them, and then Quistis' hand was on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "Just... ah... smoothing out the lumps." She smiled at him a little nervously, and Zell felt himself brought back to reality from the pleasant cloud he had been floating on. This was Quistis, and she _never_ got nervous. All jokes about freeing himself from Garden's reigning championship title of "Resident Virgin" aside, maybe... she wasn't ready for this either?

"Hey, Quisty," Zell began carefully, pushing her to his side, where she curled up against him - _hey, now this is pretty nice_ \- "Uh, don't take this the wrong way an' all, but y'think we could... I dunno... slow down a little? Maybe?" He winced and held himself deathly still, waiting for her to explode, or chastise him, or make some kind of scalding joke about _not being a man_ or something.

"Oh thank Hyne," he thought he heard her mutter, and Zell cracked an eye open.

"So you're not mad?" he asked as he felt Quistis sag against him with relief. He relaxed and let his arm fall more comfortably around her as she nodded minutely. "I mean," he said quickly, "kissin' an' all is nice, but I'm really kinda tired right now..."

"Actually, so am I," Quistis admitted with a tiny laugh. "I only pulled you in here so you wouldn't have to face a Trepie interrogation later." She stifled a yawn, something which he found to be unexpectedly cute, and leaned back against the cushions, her eyes fluttering shut. "All I really want to do is sleep until tomorrow, and maybe even then some," she groaned.

Zell dropped his head against the cushions once more and gave a grunt of agreement. The pleasant, sleepy haze was filtering back in, and he was half ready to fall asleep right where he sat. Something was bothering him, though; he carefully extracted his arm from around Quistis, which earned him a muffled noise of protest, and lazily twisted over the back of the couch, blindly groping at the floor. "I think we pushed something off the couch," he muttered, his hands finally closing around something soft and squishy. Drawing it up, he dangled it before his face. A pair of beady, glass blue eyes stared back at him.

"The hell?" Zell said, sitting up and staring at the very familiar-looking chocobo plushy in his hands. "Bobo? How'd _you_ get _here?_ "

The little toy refused to answer him, and he directed an accusing glare at Quistis. His expression melted when he saw her, though; her head was resting against the couch, her eyes closed as her breath escaped her in soft, even sighs. If he leaned in closely enough (not that he was), he could even hear the faint sound of gentle snoring. Who would've guessed? Quistis Trepe snored!

Grinning to himself, Zell carefully tucked Bobo between Quistis' arms, snickering slightly as she curled up against the plushy and cuddled it to her cheek. He stifled another, larger yawn, and settled back down onto the couch more comfortably, his eyelids growing heavy as scattered thoughts of Quistis snuggling with his chocobo accompanied him to sleep.

**.x.x.x.**

The sharp stab of pain in her neck was enough to bring Quistis out of peaceful dreamland and back into reality. She groped her way upwards groggily, wondering just what in Eden's seven hells had happened to make her think falling asleep on the couch was a good idea. Her neck creaked threateningly at her as her movements became less tentative. And what had been with all the dreams about golden-haired chocobos, happily tap-dancing on the tables at Felicia's?

One answer presented itself as she sat up straighter: a brightly-colored chocobo plushy tumbled from her arms into her lap. Quistis froze. The incriminating evidence gazed up at her, its bright, playful blue eyes belying the utter significance of its presence. Quistis recalled, now, in stunning clarity, why she'd fallen asleep on the couch: her panic-induced make-out session with Zell, tossing the stolen chocobo behind them, and then Zell's reassuring presence at her side as she drifted off... but where was he? She glanced around stupidly; she didn't really expect Zell to be hiding in a corner somewhere, nor did she expect that he'd wandered off into her bed. Although it was an intriguing idea... Quistis shook her head abruptly. No, Zell was gone.

She swallowed the sulky feeling that had surfaced in the back of her throat. Zell wasn't under any sort of obligation to her; he didn't really have a good reason to stick around until she woke up, did he? Her presence certainly wasn't reason enough; there were plenty of things Zell could be doing in Garden right now. There was no reason for her to feel so... upset. Zell hadn't abandoned her.

Quistis realized how ridiculous she sounded. This wasn't even a - a real relationship - it wasn't even - _alright,_ she told herself sternly. _Stop this._ It showed a certain amount of weakness on her part to have fallen asleep in Zell's presence, anyway; and now she was wishing he'd stayed the night? Or - as a quick glance at the clock corrected her - the few hours that she'd been in dreamland. Quistis suspected she'd been snoring; it was probably for the best that Zell had left, anyway.

Decisively planting the chocobo next to her on the couch, Quistis stood up, stretching fully. She hadn't gotten enough sleep by _anyone's_ measure, but she was alert enough to write that report for Squall. Well, she'd at least make it coherent. Her mind was leaning towards 'blissfully brief'; maybe she was holding a grudge against her poor Commander, but at this point, the bastard deserved it. Quistis covered a yawn with one hand as she made her way across the room to the cabinet which held her precious personal coffee-pot -

A note on top of the cabinet caught her eye, mostly because it was written in a glaring shade of gold which was hurting her eyes from across the room. Belatedly Quistis recognized the glitter pens Rinoa had bought her for a holiday last year - but then her brain caught up to her, and she recognized Zell's handwriting. She hurried over to grab it, her heart leaping a little in her chest. The note was almost illegible, as the gold pen was made for dark paper, not the white of - was this one of her quizzes? Quistis sighed. Apparently Sandra Burgen wouldn't be getting her quiz back this week.

_Hey Quisty,_

_I couldn't sleep on your couch, sorry. I guess I'm too big for it, ha ha._  
Anyway, I didn't want to wake you up, but don't worry about the mission report -  
I'll take care of it. You should totally go back to sleep, cause you look  really tired.

_P.S. Take care of Bobo for me.  
P.P.S. THIS IS AN  AWESOME PEN!!! _

Quistis couldn't help but laugh, even as her face flushed bright red - so apparently Zell had found his chocobo plushy, and didn't mind? She was secretly glad to be able to hang on to the little thing for a while longer; it was almost alarmingly cute. What worried her the most was the first bit - as far as she could remember, Zell had _never_ written a mission report in his life. In fact, she could clearly remember a few times that he'd bribed her (usually with chocolate) into writing reports for missions she'd _never even gone on._ The situation with Squall was on thin ice already; a disaster report from Zell would break the ice faster than Ifrit's Hellfire.

She chewed her lip, thinking. If she went to Zell's room now, he'd probably still be working on it, and... and then it would look like she didn't trust him, she realized with a sigh. It would be an insult to - to this - to whatever this was between them. It wasn't that Zell wasn't a trustworthy person - he was just - she was just - _you need to lighten up,_ Quistis told herself sternly. She slumped a little, sighing as she stretched her neck again. She'd never put her name on any report that was less than perfect... but, then again, where had that gotten her?

Her gaze fell on Bobo, and Quistis couldn't help but smile. If there was anything her time with Zell had proven, it was that Zell was much smarter than he seemed. Not only that, but that he'd go to any particular lengths to keep a friend out of trouble - Felicia's incident included. Zell wasn't an idiot; his talents simply didn't run towards literary acumen of any sort. He'd understand how to put together an acceptable report, as long as he remembered to use white-out. And so what if the report didn't use proper grammar and quote the SeeD Manual? Frankly, she didn't really care what Squall thought at this point, as long as the report was (mostly) legible and on his desk in time.

Quistis picked the plushy up again, nodding at Bobo decisively as she headed for her room. Zell had earned her trust - and, quite frankly, she was too exhausted to argue.

**.x.x.x.**

Zell gnawed furiously on the tip of his pen as he re-read his notes. He was working out of the Undergraduate Guide to Mission Reports, a book he hadn't touched since he'd had to buy it for the class three years ago. It was a little childish, but Zell didn't really care at that point; the foolproof directions were just what he needed when it came to filling out forms. He stared at the crisp, blank sheet before him with determination. He was going to make a kick-ass mission report. He was even writing it out on the _table_ this time. All this effort wasn't just for Quistis, either; Zell was getting _really_ tired of being told to shut up and sit down whenever he was in Squall's office. So what if he didn't have a vocabulary as big as Quisty's? It wasn't like he couldn't contribute, for Bahamut's sake! He had the skills to be a good SeeD outside of the battlefield too, right?

"Yeah," Zell muttered aloud, gripping his pen tightly. "Now I just gotta prove it." Taking a deep breath, he refused to be intimidated by the crisp white form and carefully read the first question.

_Assigned Team: Who was on this mission?_

Good, it was starting out with something easy. He began to scrawl hastily across the form, careful to stay within the bounds of the answer box. _Zell "Danger" Dincht,_ he scribbled automatically with a grin. It fell off when he realized that Quistis was the team leader, and therefore should have come first in the list. "Maybe you're supposed to alphabetize it," he muttered hopefully. Then he slumped over his desk. "Dumbass," he scolded himself, "Z comes after Q anyway. Aww, forget it." Feeling mildly guilty at having unwittingly snubbed Quistis, he decided to cover it up with the addition of a cool nickname. After all, if he got to get one this time, she deserved one too. _Quisty "The Whip" Trepe,_ he jotted down. He considered finishing it off with _Squinty the Wimp,_ but decided against it - for one, Squinty didn't deserve another nickname, and for two, Squall might not take the rest of the report seriously if he did something that childish. _That squinty kid from the Library (sorry, forgot his name, but he sucked anyway)_ , he finally added.

"Next!" Zell yelled, pumping a fist into the air and then scrambling and cursing as the ink from his pen splattered across - he breathed a sigh of relief - his Mission Report guide. Squirming around more sedately in his chair, Zell peered at the next empty field in the form.

_List of Objectives: What was the mission meant to accomplish?_

Well, duh. _Capture Seifer_ _Almasshole, Fujin and Raijin; or at least stop them from stirring up_ \- "Shit!" Zell echoed aloud as he caught himself before he was able to write it down. "Uh..." **_Trouble_** _in Balamb_ , he wrote after a moment of thought. He was going to have to be careful; he almost slipped up on that last one. Sweating a little, Zell read the next question carefully.

_Mission_ _Location: Where did the mission take place?_

Good, there was no way to mess this one up, he thought with a touch of relief as he wrote _Balamb_ down. His confidence returning, Zell scanned the next question. His brow wrinkled, but he resisted the small voice in the back of his mind that was ordering him to skip over it like he usually did with the more difficult long-answer questions on his homework assignments.

_Mission_ _Purpose: Why was this mission assigned?_

His gut reaction was to angrily stab _"Because Seifer was being an asshole!"_ into the answer field. Instead, he pushed back in his chair and thought about it. He could write that it was to stop Seifer from harassing his Ma; that was the truth. Then again, Squall had been getting all twitchy lately every time Ma Dincht's name came up. Frowning, Zell pulled his notes over and found a suitably large empty space between his transcribed mission-writing tips and his absent-minded doodles of Quistis frolicking with Bobo. Quisty was always making lists, wasn't she? Maybe that would help. Brow furrowing, he began to list potential candidates.

 _1) Cuz Seifer WAS being an asshole!!!!_  
2) Cuz Seifer was harassing Ma and my bro  
3) Cuz Quisty and me needed to make up from last time  
4) Cuz Quisty and me got beat up last time  
5) Cuz they blew up our statue  
6) Cuz of all the shit they're doing in Balamb 

Zell sat back and cracked his neck, reviewing the hasty list he had made. The first couple of reasons would only piss Squall off even more if he mentioned them, even if they _were_ true. Scratching them out, Zell let his pen linger over the third reason with a lopsided smile; making up with Quistis had been the best mission assignment he ever got. Still, even if that part of the plan had been a huge success, he wasn't sure that Quistis wanted news of them getting together coming out just yet.

 _We **are** together, aren't we?_ Zell thought to himself, tensing slightly. She shielded him from the Trepies, and she did jump all over him in her room, too. Then again, she had been harsher than usual towards him on the way to her quarters, and she'd sounded a little too relieved when he pushed her off on the couch. Was she _still_ embarrassed about being seen with him in public? The thought was depressing, but he forced himself to ignore it. If Zell had learned anything about Quistis in the past few days, it was that she wasn't as cruel as most people assumed. Quistis always seemed to have a _reason_ for everything - usually a _good_ one, too. Pushing off against the desk and balancing precariously on two legs of his chair, Zell stared at the ceiling. If she was embarrassed to hang out with him, there had to be a reason, right?

Absently he thought about the looks on peoples' faces when he had made his first attempt to apply for Instructorship. Open-mouthed stares. Incredulous eyebrows. Poorly hidden laughter. A general vibe of disbelief and ridicule. _People think I'm dumb,_ he realized. It didn't really bother him _that_ much; Zell didn't care what other students thought - as long as his friends trusted him, that was good enough. He thought about Quistis, though; she was kind of touchy like Squall in that regard. He imagined news of their dates getting out. He thought of the reactions she'd get once everybody realized they were dating. Open-mouthed stares. Incredulous eyebrows. Poorly hidden laughter. Disbelief and ridicule. _Quistis._

The chair landed with a thump. "Shit," Zell muttered as he scratched through the third item on the list repeatedly, embossing deep grooves into the paper with his pen tip. So no telling Squall - or anybody else really - about that part, not until he figured out a way to protect Quistis. Besides, if Squall really was fighting with Rinoa, the last thing he'd want to hear about was _somebody elses'_ girlfriend. He skimmed over the last few reasons. Those didn't sound too bad, even if it was kinda embarrassing to admit that Seifer and his Posse had bested them the first time around. He thought for a moment, and then leaned over the desk, writing quickly.

_Because Seifer and Fujin and Raijin were making trouble again. And because they beat us up last time and blew up our statue! Most of all because we want to stop Seifer from doing all this shit in Balamb!_

Zell nodded to himself with a grin - and then hurriedly reached for the white-out. "Can't cuss in there," he muttered to himself as he blotted out the word "shit" in the final sentence; he carefully wrote in "stuff" above it, trying not to smudge the letters too badly. There were only a few more answers to go, Zell noted with relief; the next question, however, had an ominously large box next to it. Quashing his nervousness, Zell read the question.

_Mission_ _Objectives: Discuss whether objectives were met, and if not, why. Be sure to discuss in detail any deviation from standard SeeD policy as stated in section 10A-F._

Zell groaned, throwing the pen across the room. He should've _known_ that this was going to require the SeeD Manual. "At least I know where it is now," he grumbled as he scooted away from his desk and lifted the table leg to retrieve the book underneath it. It was dishearteningly thick, and the title was smudged. Zell wasn't entirely certain if the words were fuzzy because of the stains obtained from spending most of its life as a desk prop or simply because his eyes weren't focusing properly. His entire body was throbbing with muted exhaustion, and he almost gave in at the sight of his bed. It was only the thought of Quistis that kept him going. "I gotta prove that I'm good enough for her," he repeated firmly, scrubbing at his eyes and trying to rub the encroaching sleep away. Maybe that was why Quisty drank so much coffee; if she put herself through this kind of shit every day, no wonder she was so stressed all the time. He blinked, remembering Squall's furious face as he waved Zell's wrinkled application at him.

"I ain't a joke," Zell growled, gripping a new pen tightly, slamming the SeeD Manual onto his desk and flipping it open to section 10. Pulling a relatively fresh sheet of paper to the surface, he began to page through the segments, painstakingly copying what he hoped were the most important policy points from sections A through F. He nearly gave up upon coming across the official SeeD policy for _"the legetarian responsibilities placed upon mission subordinates in dealing with potential civilian machiaphobia"_ \- how could anybody even _read_ that shit? - but thoughts of Quistis, curled up around his plushy and snoring so faintly that the sound may as well have come from Bobo, sent him scrambling for his dictionary.

A little over an hour later, Zell was pretty sure the bags under his eyes could be used to sweep the floor, his hand was cramped from all that writing, and he knew more about _"misqueming a Sorceress' sacriolists"_ than he ever really wanted to. But, the report in question was finally finished. Signing it proudly with a flourish, Zell rose from his desk, carefully stuffing the paper into a manila envelope and being extra-careful not to wrinkle the edges. He trudged wearily out of his room and began the long march back towards the Commander's office; most of the way there passed in a hazy blur. The cheerful ding of the elevator woke Zell from his dazed stupor, and with a surprised jump, he barreled towards the lift doors - and straight into someone else.

"Whoa there, buddy!" Irvine said, pushing Zell back with a grin. "So you and Quisty are back from your _mission,_ " he added slyly, emphasizing the word with gestured quotation marks. "How'd it go? Did you finally score?"

Zell blinked dumbly, and then scowled in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Quistis. "Lay off it, man. I still gotta deliver this mission report to Squall, I'm totally bushed, and I don't need you gnathonizin' me right now, alright?" With that, he slammed on the button and let the elevator doors close between them.

Irvine stared at the closed door for several moments dumbly. "Gnatho _what?_ " Then, shaking his head, he shrugged and sauntered off towards the Quad. He certainly didn't need to translate _that_ : one smooch session, and Quistis already had him whipped (at least, figuratively). "Oh, Zell," he sighed to himself as he walked down the hall. "Man, have you got it bad."


	14. In Which Storms Brew On The Horizon

"So let me get this straight," Selphie said, twirling around on her skates as she rolled to a stop. "You're telling me that Seifer's birthday isn't even in this _season,_ let alone this month?"

"Uh huh," Zell replied, flipping up his T-board and slinging himself onto the ledge next to her. The Quad was fairly empty of students, with the exceptions of those who were doing a little light athletic rule-breaking. With the Training Center officially off limits except during first-year practice hours, Zell was finding new ways to burn his excess energy. The Garden Custodial faculty, in the dual hopes of both annoying Squall and keeping Garden property damage down to a minimum, had arbitrarily decided to turn a blind eye to the roller skaters and T-boarders amongst the student body - especially world-famous ones who were currently banned from the Training Center. "I'm tellin' ya, I'm pretty sure his birthday's in December."

"Huh," Selphie replied, grabbing her soda off of the ledge and slurping noisily from it. She frowned thoughtfully and chewed on her straw. "You think maybe that's the real reason why Rinoa's so upset about this whole party thing?"

"Hell no," Zell yelled immediately. "Man, even I'd be upset if I knew my girlfriend was throwin' a party for that bastard!" Actually, upset wouldn't even begin to cover it. Fortunately, the only contexts Zell ever noticed Quistis mentioning Seifer in were the ones involving shackles, chocobo prods, thumbscrews and tweezers - not in the kinky way, either - which kinda brought a smile to his face. His head cleared as he noticing Selphie's widening eyes, and Zell coughed and quickly backtracked. "Uh, I mean boyfriend!" he explained hastily.

"Oooh, so you have a girlfriend now," Selphie teased, refusing to be thrown off the scent. The mischievous glint in her eyes, however, was terrifying. Ever since they'd gotten back from their mission, Quistis and Selphie seemed to be on good terms with each other once more. Irvine had mentioned that it was somehow because of him, and that he'd better watch his back. He hadn't quite realized what Irvine had meant until Selphie began to hound him about his dating progress with Piggy. Now, however, he winced as he realized he had left himself wide open for yet another one of Selphie's romantic interrogations.

"So, who is she?" she wheedled, digging her elbow into Zell's side. "Is it that girl from the Library, hmm? Did you finally get the guts to ask her out?"

Zell winced and gripped his T-board tightly. Piggy was fast becoming a bit of a problem. Ever since Squinty had been booted off of the Library Committee, she had taken over the position as Committee Head and seemed to be striving to bring new meaning to the term _multitasking._ She was _everywhere._ In fact, the last person Zell could remember being quite as productive was... well, Quistis, at least in her pre-suspension days. It was actually taking more than just a small effort on his part to avoid meeting up with his former crush, not the least in part because of Selphie's rigorous matchmaking efforts.

Normally, he would just have escaped to the Training Center - after all, there was nothing more effective for avoiding chance meetings with Library Committee members than the threat of physical combat. With Squall's moratorium on his Training Center privileges, however, it was becoming harder to cook up reasons to avoid her. Late breakfasts worked, but that meant he missed out on getting to see Quistis. Hallway strolls were straight out - he'd already had to hide behind the potted ferns several times, and once even took a dive into the waterway to avoid running into Piggy. He was seriously considering a temporary rental of some of Garden's high-pressure hand-held suction equipment so that he could scale the walls in emergencies.

"Well?" Selphie was watching him expectantly, her green eyes calculating. "You didn't, did you. Oh, Zell!" she groaned, wilting onto the ledge next to him. "What am I going to _do_ with you? You're worse than Quisty, you know!"

Zell winced. Quistis - now there was another sore point. He'd hoped that their 'dating lessons' would be a little _more,_ now - they could hold hands, share ice cream, maybe kiss a little from time to time - oh hell, who was he kidding. Zell was more than willing to be rid of both his virgin "title" _and_ Irvine's constant ribbing. The only problem was, none of that could happen if he never even got to _see_ Quistis.

Oh sure, they'd meet from time to time, usually in the company of their friends. Awkward, nervous glances would be traded, Irvine's innuendos would be shot down and Selphie's pointed questions about their shared 'dating lessons' would often be supplemented by offers of assistance. The scariest pieces of advice were the ones where Irvine, with a twinkle in his eye, would volunteer himself to help Selphie demonstrate 'successful techniques.' Fortunately, Quistis always managed to talk them out of it before things got too graphic. But it was getting really frustrating. If it wasn't Irvine and Selphie, then it was the Trepies. It seemed like getting any type of _alone time_ with Quistis was fast becoming a pipe dream.

It was almost as if he'd imagined the entire thing - at least, until he'd catch Quistis' cheeks reddening across the table as Irvine made some lame joke. It _had_ happened, Zell was sure of it. It was the 'what happens next' part that he wasn't so sure about.

"You haven't seen Quisty around, have ya?" he queried absently, swiping at his face.

"Why?" Selphie asked, rattling the ice in her cup before slurping away the last of her drink away noisily. "I think she's been trying to hide from Rinoa. Ever since Rinny and Squall had that latest fight, she's been looking for a new project. I warned Quisty about it, but you know Rinoa..."

Zell straightened, his shoulders tensing up. "A new project?" he asked suspiciously. "What's that got to do with Quisty?"

Selphie's high pitched laughter only made him feel even queasier. "She's trying to find Quisty the perfect boyfriend, what else? I mean, come on, Zell, where have you _been_ for the last few months?"

"Dunno," Zell managed to mumble numbly, still reeling from the news. Rinoa was trying to make Quistis date other people? _His_ Quistis? He'd asked Irvine to stop the blind date thing, but Irvine clearly had no power over Rinoa. He was beginning to feel kinda sick, and not in that good way, either. "Y-you sure Quisty's okay with that?" he asked tightly, feeling his T-board bend under the pressure of his grip.

Selphie sighed. "Of course she's not okay with it," she said, oblivious to Zell's sudden sag of relief. "You know how Quisty is. She wants to control her own life, she doesn't like it when other people stick their fingers into her business." Selphie chewed on a fingernail nervously. "That's not the real problem, though. The real problem is Squall and Rinoa. If they don't make up soon, I swear Squall's head is going to explode!"

"Guess I shouldn't be askin' him about liftin' my suspension then, huh?" Zell slumped.

"Not unless you want it extended for another month," Selphie agreed. Then she perked up. "But look on the bright side, Zell! This way, you have lots more time to spend wooing that pig-tailed girl!"

"Great," Zell replied listlessly.

Selphie took no notice, swaying eagerly on her skates. "Hey, wanna go over to the Library right now? I think it's her turn to work the front desk. You could always say you needed to check out a few books for your Instructor application," she added with a wink.

Zell sagged even further, this time a bit depressively. "Tried that already," he mumbled. The irony of it was, this time he really _did_ need to check out a few books for his Trainer application. With Piggy's newfound omnipresence around the Library, however, he didn't want to risk his luck, especially not with Selphie in tow. He jerked as he realized Selphie had latched onto his arm and was currently dragging him out of the Quad. "H-hey! Where're we goin'?" he asked, stumbling down the hallway after her.

"The Library! Don't be dense," Selphie scolded.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Zell yelled, yanking his arm out of her grasp. "I can't go there now!"

Selphie stopped and spun around, crossing her arms defiantly. "And why not?" Zell gulped; he could make a run for it, but for one, she was on skates, and for two, she was faster than him even without the wheels anyway.

"'Cause... uhh... 'cause..." His eyes fell onto his T-board. "'Cause there's no T-boardin' in the Library!" he finished quickly, heaving a sigh of relief. He loved his T-board almost as much as Quistis. That thought gave him pause. _Oh, man._ Now he was comparing his _T-board_ to Quistis? He really needed to see her, he decided.

Selphie pouted cutely. "Oh, get real. You know the Custodial staff won't mind as long as you don't use it in there. Now come on! This is the perfect opportunity to make your move!"

Zell glanced around desperately, searching for an excuse. He caught sight of a small troupe of first-years making their way towards the Training Center, and his face split into a wide grin. "Oh, hey, gotta run, Sefie. The TC's open right now, I wanna catch it while I can. See ya!" He began a hasty escape down the hallway, but Selphie's shrill voice stopped him in his tracks.

"HEY! Wait a second! Aren't you forgetting something important here?" Selphie yelled, stomping her foot on the ground and then wobbling a little unsteadily as her skates wheeled out from under her.

"Oh yeah! Thanks a lot," Zell called out, jogging back to her. Selphie's eyebrows shot up in confusion, and then lowered into an angry glower as Zell pressed his T-board into her arms. "Jus' put it in front of my door or somethin'. I owe ya one!" He turned and sprinted down the hallway, ignoring Selphie's indignant squeaks as she struggled under the T-board, which was almost as big as she was.

"Zell Dincht! Get - back - here!" he heard her muffled shout. Snickering to himself, he picked up the pace, speeding towards the Training Center. Though Squall had deemed it off limits, he - like all other SeeDs - was still allowed to visit the Center during First Year classes. The going theory was, the more SeeDs that were in the TC at the time, the less likely there was to be a messy T-Rexaur incident with the younger students. Though it sounded good on paper, the plan more often than not backfired, seeing as how curious and talkative the younger first-year students tended to be. Nobody really enjoyed herding a group of rambunctious ten-year-olds through the artificial jungle; most Garden students felt they simply got in the way. Zell, however, was starting to look forward to the daily hour-long sessions with the younger children.

For one, it was the only chance he could get to flex his muscles outside of his room. There was only so much you could do with a punching bag and a T-board, after all, good intentions of the Custodial staff notwithstanding. More importantly, however, it was a chance to try his hand at all that Trainer stuff Quistis had told him about. With the Library being off limits for all intents and purposes, the only thing he could collect was practical experience anyhow. So far, it hadn't been going too badly; the kids were starting to recognize him, and it wasn't really all that bad - teaching them not only how to defend themselves but also passing on other useful bits of wisdom, like the best ways to mod the desk consoles during class without your Instructor noticing. More importantly, it gave him a chance to burn off some of the jitters he had from being unable to see Quistis. It was beyond frustrating. Even the Trepies seemed to be able to get ahold of her more easily than he did, for Hyne's sake!

Zell's feet slowed against the floor as a chill ran down his back. "No way," he mumbled, his eyes going wide. He stopped and looked at his hands in bewilderment. They didn't look any different from before, but he couldn't fight the feeling of panic that was starting to worm its way down his spine and into his gut. He wasn't - he couldn't be - naw, there was _no way._ Was there?

Two familiar-looking students who were chatting just outside of the Training Center paused their conversation to regard Zell. "Everything all right, sir?" one of them asked as Zell stared at them dumbly.

Zell blinked. They were Trepies. He was starting to recognize them now; they had regular stations, routes, even contingency plans set up to keep an ever-watchful eye on their idol. Ever since Squinty had fallen from grace, the Trepie organization had been floundering, much like a snake that suddenly found its head severed from the rest of its body. But that didn't stop the more dedicated members from continuing their borderline-obsessive surveillance of their beloved Instructor, or their weekly gatherings. For _his Quisty._ He swallowed, his throat dry.

"Sir?" the student repeated, beginning to look mildly worried.

"N-nothin," Zell managed to stutter out, racing into the Training Center. "I ain't nothin' like them," he hissed to himself once the doors slammed shut behind him. The seed of doubt, however, had been planted, and was spreading furiously like a weed through his thoughts. He raced past the younger students, avoiding their greetings for once, and tumbled directly into the densest thicket he could find - and the small colony of Grats nesting within it. Within moments, the surprised insects were reduced to nothing more than puffs of dust and a few scattered tentacles littered over the ground. At the center of the small whirlwind of destruction, Zell stood, panting heavily, his shoulders slumped and his eyes still wide.

"I am not a Trepie!" he yelled uselessly into the air. He didn't stalk Quistis - though, admittedly, Selphie wasn't giving him enough free time to even try. He didn't know what Quistis had for breakfast - _strawberry cream cheese and bagels,_ his mind whispered traitorously - or her favorite drink, which happened to be black coffee during the day and white wine in the evening. And anyone could guess what her favorite color was just by looking at her - though, actually, she had once confessed to liking dark, muted colors better than her peach battle gear, she just thought wearing them would make her look way too much like Squall. And he didn't spend all of his free time thinking about Quistis or wondering what she was doing. What _was_ she doing right now, anyhow?

"Aww, nuts," Zell groaned, sinking into a crouch and punching at the ground in frustration. "I _am_ a Trepie."

**.x.x.x.**

Quistis sighed and self-consciously brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Glancing furtively around the corner, she scanned the hallways. They were clear. She eased herself out of her room and shut the door behind her. Then, stealthily, she crept down the corridor. It was still too early in the morning for most other students to be up; the Cafeteria would be just starting to brew their first batch of coffee. Only a few students would be awake at this time - those who had been up all night, studying for exams; a few of the Committee heads, who would doubtlessly be preparing schedules and activities for the day; maybe one or two students up for an early morning jog around the Promenade, or a chance to get a crack at the first few Buels in the Training Center. Everyone else would be nestled sound asleep in their beds, waiting for a more _human_ hour to rise. Relaxing slightly, Quistis let her shoulders drop and lengthened her steps.

The early hour wasn’t unusual for Quistis; she didn’t particularly like waking at dawn, but she’d done it many times when a huge test or a practical exam loomed on the horizon. Now that she’d been suspended from her normal schedule, she’d found herself waking earlier anyway – due to the fact that she was also in bed absurdly early these days. In all honesty, the early schedule was working well for her. It was much easier to avoid annoyances, like coffee shortages in the Cafeteria, or the Trepies. However, she’d ended up inadvertently avoiding someone else as well.

That, however, was going to change today. Quistis marched towards the boy's dormitories, intent on her mission to ambush Zell at this ungodly hour and drag him out before their friends had a chance to ambush them. Or perhaps drag him _in._ Quistis' feet slowed as her lips pursed thoughtfully. Now _there_ was a plan. A chance to spend the entire day holed up in Zell's room, with nothing but themselves to entertain each other - and it was the last place the Trepies would think to look for her.

Shaking her head, Quistis banished the thought from her mind. Even if she hadn't managed to see Zell in the past few days, she wasn't that frustrated - she was going to visit Zell because they needed to _talk,_ not to take part in some sort of hot and heavy teenaged makeout session. _It's not because I miss him,_ she told herself sternly, crossing her arms over her stomach. _I don't._ They still had so many issues to work out together - for example, what exactly had he written in that mission report he turned in to Squall? Yes, once she woke him up, they were going to have a calm, professional chat like two adults, and nothing more. Idly, Quistis caught herself wondering if Zell's normal sleepwear included a nightshirt, and hoping that it didn't. A small groan escaped her lips, and Quistis rubbed her temples slowly. Maybe she was going through withdrawal. The thought seemed ludicrous - since when had she, Quistis Trepe, ever needed anyone's company to enjoy herself?

She didn't like this, not one bit. She'd tried to keep busy the past few days, but it was as if Zell's presence had taken up residence in her thoughts - and, much like the real Zell, the imaginary presence just wouldn't shut up. It made Quistis a little uneasy; most normal relationships _couldn't_ be like this. If Rinoa spent this much time thinking about Squall, she'd never be able to carry on a conversation in real life. Then again, Rinoa and Squall's relationship wasn't exactly the gold standard for normal. Quistis sighed and bit her lip. She didn't particularly like that a few days with Zell and his - attentions - had made her so dependent on him. She _missed_ him, and that was simply ridiculous. Moreover, she was afraid of admitting that she liked having someone around - mostly because that would mean she'd have to admit that Selphie and Rinoa had been right about her 'needing a man in her life.'

She couldn't deny, however, the vague sense of irritation that was building up as yet another Zell-free day passed. It had been so much easier to meet with him before, when he wasn't - she swallowed - quite as _important_ to her. Now, however, she felt restless and impatient as one day of being unable to corner him alone bled into two, then two into three. Every time they had a chance to meet, something would inevitably 'come up' - usually in the form of Selphie or Irvine, or sometimes even both of them together. And, although the Trepies had been loosening up over the past few days, Quistis hadn't managed to enjoy the newfound moments of freedom - because Rinoa had decided to spend her time filling those gaps.

It was Rinoa, in fact, whom Quistis was trying to avoid with her early-morning schedule, rather than the Trepies. It wasn't that she found Rinoa's company unpleasant, but ever since she and Squall had had their latest argument - Hyne only knew what about - Rinoa had practically welded herself to Quistis' hip. Perhaps it was some misguided sense of solidarity, seeing as how Quistis herself appeared to be just as 'unattached' as Rinoa was, currently. And therein lay the problem - Rinoa seemed hell-bent on getting Quistis to find her own "true happiness" no matter what the cost. Quistis suppressed a small sigh as she considered the dates Rinoa had doggedly tried to arrange for her in the past two days. She was running out of excuses to tell Rinoa; she could only wash her hair so many times in one day, and without the benefit of classes to fill her schedule, finding plausible reasons to be busy was becoming an exercise in creative thinking.

Quistis' steps slowed as she saw a slim figure wandering down the hallway. She gave a little mental groan as she recognized the silhouette - it was, of course, none other than Rinoa herself, as though merely thinking of her had summoned Rinoa's presence. Quickly she began to think up of excuses for her early morning excursion through the boy's dormitories, of all places - and then trailed off, as she realized that Rinoa hadn't actually spotted her yet. Curious, Quistis once again crept forward, watching Rinoa pace slowly down the hall. Angelo was behind her, whining lowly and snuffling at her heels. Quistis frowned as she recognized the corridor Rinoa was circling - it was the path to Squall's personal quarters. Or, more correctly, Squall and Rinoa's quarters - since they practically lived together most of the time. Angelo let out another low whimper, and Rinoa stopped and reached down to absently scratch behind the weary dog's ears.

"I know it's early, but you're getting kind of pudgy," Rinoa told him softly. "That's why we had to take a walk." Angelo wuffled with a faint look of disbelief. Rinoa scowled back at the shaggy collie half-heartedly. "Hey, you're the one who wanted to come out here," she pointed out. Angelo seated himself heavily and pointedly looked away from his mistress. After a moment of staring, Rinoa dropped her head and bent her knees, circling her arms around her legs. "So maybe it is my fault," she admitted with a faint sulk. "I'm the one who woke you up, and I'm the one who made you come out here. I'm sorry, okay?"

Angelo lifted a leg and began to lick himself lazily. Rinoa released a noisy exhale and looked at the dog, her eyes unnaturally bright. "Come on, Angelo. Don't you go and be mad at me, too," she said, her voice breaking at the end. Relenting, the dog stopped his personal grooming to push a sympathetic nose against her cheek. Rinoa reached out and buried her arms around Angelo's neck, hiding her face in the collie's thick fur and sniffling softly.

Worried, Quistis stepped out from the plant she had secreted herself behind and slowly approached the crying girl. "Rinoa?" she said tentatively, placing a hand on Rinoa's shaking shoulder. She backed away quickly as Rinoa shot to her feet.

"Quistis! What are you doing here?" she asked, trying vainly to swipe at her tear-stained cheeks.

Quistis crossed her arms and gave Rinoa an appraising look. "I could ask you the same question."

"Oh, that," Rinoa said, sniffing once and then giving Quistis a bright smile. "Well, you know, Angelo just needed to take a little walk this morning and -"

Angelo barked once, sharply, and went back to worrying his fur with an air of barely-tolerant annoyance.

"Rinoa, I just found you crying outside of Squall's quarters at..." She checked her watch. "... five-thirty in the morning. I hardly think your dog has anything to do with it."

"I'm not crying," Rinoa said quickly, passing a hand over her face. "I was... umm... it's just an allergic reaction," she explained, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Besides, that's completely silly. Why would I be wasting any tears over that - that - cold, insensitive _jerk,_ " Rinoa added defensively, a little of her old fire returning. "He's the one who should be apologizing to me for what he did." The nervous way her hands were wringing together rather effectively undermined her otherwise passionate outburst.

Quistis sighed silently to herself. Maybe meeting with Zell could wait for just a bit longer. Rinoa looked a mess; as loyal as Angelo was, it was fairly obvious that she was in need of a two-legged friend at the moment. "Come on," she said after a moment of silence, "the Cafeteria should be opening up just now. We can go while the coffee's still fresh, and maybe they'll let Angelo have a bagel, too."

Angelo gave a an eager woof of agreement and immediately began to pull at his leash. Rinoa, however, held back, looking at Quistis thoughtfully. "Are you sure about this?" she asked quietly. "Because, you know, I had the feeling you were trying to avoid me for the past couple of days..."

Quistis winced internally, and then turned a supportive smile towards Rinoa. "Well, you - caught me at a bad time," she said hastily, bending to give Angelo a quick pat on the head in greeting. The dog sniffed her hand happily. Quistis glanced up; Rinoa still looked sad and a little forlorn. _Well,_ Quistis thought sternly to herself, _thinking about Rinoa's problems will be infinitely more useful than mooning over Zell like I've been doing constantly._ "Rinoa, do you want to talk about it?"

Rinoa's eyes widened; she sniffled a little, and then shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe I do."

"Come on," Quistis said decisively, gesturing. "Nothing fixes problems quite like caffeination."

Rinoa's soft giggle let her know that her decision had been a good one. "Coffee is your solution to everything, isn't it?"

"No," Quistis admitted. "But it's an excellent first step. It clears the brain and helps your thinking."

They made their way through deserted hallways and into the Cafeteria. True to Quistis' expectations, it was nearly empty, save for another Instructor whom she greeted with a nod and a table of three exhausted-looking students. She led Rinoa over to the breakfast brunch buffet line.

"Wow," Rinoa said wearily, "they have everything in the mornings, don't they?"

Quistis nabbed her usual bagel and the tub of strawberry cream-cheese, placing them primly on her tray. "It's a horrible hour to be awake, but it's worth it in some ways," she replied. The bagel was followed by a small plate of the scrambled-egg omelet - well, hey, if she was up this early, she should probably enjoy it. She then retrieved two steaming cups of fresh - fresh! - coffee, also taking the flavored creamer she knew Rinoa preferred.

They made their way over to a small table in the corner, partially hidden by a large fern and a trash can. Rinoa picked at her pancakes sadly, while Angelo hopefully eyed her bacon.

"Right," Quistis said with a sigh. "So you and Squall are fighting."

"I-" Rinoa drew together with a little huff, ready to defend herself -

"Rinoa," Quistis chastised. "You don't have to put on a front. It's just me."

The air went out of Rinoa with a rush. "Okay, yeah, we're fighting again," she admitted. "We - it's that stupid party." She shook her head.

"Party?" Quistis winced. Frankly, this sounded like it had Selphie involved, and possibly Irvine - which couldn't be good. "What party?"

"A little while ago - after that first mission you and Zell went on," Rinoa said, ignoring Quistis' embarrassed jolt, "I found out that Squall was throwing a party for Seifer. Everybody figured that Squall wanted to welcome Seifer back to Garden once you guys brought him in - I know, it's okay, we all know about it anyway." Rinoa threw her a wink. "We had to figure out what you and Zell were doing all that time."

"Oh," Quistis said, rather dumbly, ignoring the nervous, adrenaline-spiked cramps that briefly flickered through her stomach as she thought about what she and Zell had been doing all that time. Or at least, part of the time.

"Anyway." Rinoa slumped back down, stabbing at her pancakes with her fork. "So everybody was all happy about this - I mean, he ordered the _cake buffet!_ \- but, like, nobody stopped to think whether or not it was a good idea to bring Seifer back." She paused, pushing one stubborn piece around in the syrup on her plate. "Okay, I'll say it: I was mad because nobody asked me first."

Quistis wisely bit her tongue; Rinoa had an awful habit of only thinking about herself, first and always. "It makes sense," she said instead, in an effort to be a good friend. "You and Seifer have a history, too."

"Yeah, I know." Rinoa winced. "And I was so hung up in that - well, that's when Squall and I fought the first time."

Quistis raised an eyebrow. "The... first time?"

"Well," Rinoa said practically, "yeah. We've had probably four or five huge fights about it so far. It isn't even the record, though - remember last year, with the Winter Festival?"

"Oh, Hyne," Quistis groaned. "Let's not talk about that."

Rinoa tucked her hair behind her ear. "That was seven."

"I don't believe you keep track," Quistis said, mystified.

Rinoa shrugged. "Squall and I are - we're really very different, and it works, but it also can be bad," she said. "I mean, I think it's a good thing that we can fight, that we can talk to each other honestly and get all these issues out. It's better than lots of other relationships, where people kind of ignore each other and don't talk ever and just pretend everything's all happy and mushy." She sighed. "I just wish it didn't suck so bad when we disagreed on something."

Quistis took a sip of her coffee, idly reviewing Rinoa's words. Had she and Zell been honest with each other? Yes, and then again no. She'd almost seduced him to keep him from finding Bobo, for crying out loud. And he still had Piggy to deal with. Really, they were still in that 'careful' stage, where they - _Stop it,_ Quistis, she told herself sternly. _Stop thinking about Zell! You are being obsessive and weak. And also rude to your friend!_

Quistis looked up. Rinoa was feeding bacon to Angelo, faintly smiling at her canine friend. "So," Quistis said. "Are you still fighting over the party, then?"

"We did for a while," Rinoa replied. "Squall - he didn't know much about the party, he didn't even know about the Cake Buffet! It just - it made me really mad, because usually he's so stingy on everything - he wouldn't even put those glitter pens I bought him on Garden reimbursement! And all of a sudden _Seifer's_ worth, like, a billion Gil? And he just signs off on it without even telling me? Without even reading the form?"

Quistis shook her head. True, it didn't really sound like a Squall-like action - but then again, if presented with a bouncy Selphie early in the morning, Quistis wasn't so sure she would've held out much longer.

"So we fought about that, too. I told him he was irresponsible, he said I should mind my own damn business - the usual." Rinoa stuffed a large bite of pancake into her mouth. Angelo whined at her a little.

Quistis took a long sip of coffee and started picking the onions out of her eggs. "I'm guessing there's more. There always is."

Rinoa shook her head sadly. "Yes and no. I - I went to talk to Fujin. After you guys brought her in. When she was in that solitary room - Squall said I could!" she added hurriedly.

"I'm not going to tell on you," Quistis pointed out. "You went to talk to Fujin... about Seifer?"

Rinoa nodded. "I just - I don't really know what I was thinking; I was mostly just mad, but it actually helped me a bit. Fujin told me a lot about Seifer and what he's like... now. And what he was like... then." She paused, and shuddered slightly. "I - it's hard for me to think that maybe Seifer wasn't wrong, y'know? Maybe he was just an idiot?"

"I'd say idiot describes it rather well," Quistis said acidly, remembering their last battle in Balamb Square.

"Yeah," Rinoa said, a brief smile flitting across her face. "So then I went to Squall, to apologize, and I said I finally understood why he wanted to throw Seifer a welcome-home party - even if I didn't agree with it, I could understand it, and hopefully he could understand why I'd been so hung up on it."

"Let me guess," Quistis said. "He told you to talk to a wall?"

"Huh?" Rinoa raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "No, actually, this is when he told me the real plan." Her voice, which had calmed down into her usual graceful tone, grew sharp again. "Apparently the party wasn't for Seifer. It was for _catching_ Seifer. It was a party for the rest of Garden to have while we marched Seifer through here in _chains._ To point and _laugh._ While we ate _cake._ "

Quistis raised an eyebrow. This wasn't just unusual Squall behavior - this particular situation had Irvine and Selphie written all over it, and had probably been hit with the "MISCOMMUNICATION" stamp Quistis had always wished she'd had in her office to use on horrible essays. She made a mental note to corner Irvine later, as he'd be more likely to spill the beans; he was susceptible to cleavage, after all. Meanwhile, Rinoa was waiting for her response. "I - that doesn't sound very much like Squall," she offered. The fact that Rinoa herself hadn't put two and two together was a tell-tale sign to Quistis as to how upset Rinoa actually _was._

"No, it doesn't." Rinoa huffed. "He's never been this much of a bastard before. I mean, Squall's hard to get through to, yeah, but really he's a nice person underneath. He's kind-hearted. Why would he do something like this?"

 _Kind-hearted?_ Quistis choked on her bagel. Who the hell did Rinoa think she was dating, really? She brought her napkin to her lips, still coughing. "Rin, I - I think - this may not be Squall's doing," she managed to get out.

"Really?" Rinoa's eyes widened. "What's going on, then?"

"I don't know," Quistis said, managing to finally take a soothing sip of coffee to calm her throat. "But do you really think Squall would do all of this just to make you angry?"

Rinoa sagged. "No," she said sullenly. "I'm... not that important."

"Rinoa," Quistis said, and to her surprise her voice was rather sharp. Rinoa looked up, surprised. "Don't kid yourself. You know how important you are to Squall. Part of the reason he's been acting like such an ass is because he doesn't have your support anymore."

Rinoa blinked. "Really?"

"Trust me." Quistis laughed a little and sipped her coffee again. "Take it from a professional Squall observer. He doesn't know how to deal with it, or how to say it, so he just gets angrier at the people around him and angrier at himself."

"I know _I've_ been an idiot," Rinoa said sadly. She took a bite of her bacon, giving the rest to Angelo. "What do you think I should do?"

"Apologize?" Quistis offered, as if it were obvious.

"Probably," Rinoa mused. She idly tapped her fork on her plate. "But it wasn't all my fault, Quisty. Some of it was his fault, too!"

"That may be true," Quistis said. "But if you know you were acting out of line, why not apologize? It's not going to do you any good to wait around for Squall to do it." She pointed at Rinoa with her fork for emphasis. "It's not like whoever apologizes first is 'more wrong.' If you know you screwed up, you should do something about it. What Squall does or doesn't do shouldn't even be a factor in your decision."

"Wow." Rinoa blinked, and Quistis had a horrible moment of panic - she'd done it again, gone and said something too-honest that she knew she'd regret. Hadn't she learnt her lesson with Zell already? But then Rinoa smiled a little. "That's actually really good advice," she admitted.

It was Quistis' turn to blink in surprise. "Really?"

"I never thought you liked me much," Rinoa confessed, looking down at Angelo as her cheeks turned slightly pink. "Thanks for talking to me about all this."

"I -" Quistis felt herself blushing, too. "I've learnt recently that I need to be a little more understanding," she said, and smiled, thinking of Zell.

In fact - Quistis paused, glancing across the table in time to see Rinoa dangle the last piece of bacon above Angelo's nose. Maybe it was time to come clean with Rinoa about Zell - or, at least, about her feelings for Zell. Rinoa was a self-proclaimed romantic; maybe she'd have some advice on the situation, especially how to deal with Zell's lingering feelings for Piggy. And - if Rinoa knew that Quistis and Zell were... well, at least partially involved, she'd be that much less likely to continue setting Quistis up on dates. She'd probably throw herself into supporting the new relationship with as much fervor as she'd thrown into the blind date extravaganza.

Quistis took a sip of her coffee to stall. She was still so - reluctant to open up to people; she'd never been an open person before, and just because Zell had put a crack into one of her walls didn't mean they were all suddenly coming down. What if Rinoa laughed at her? Worse, what if Rinoa tried to give her sex tips like Irvine? Her tongue was tied. Why was this so hard? Rinoa had just poured her heart out over coffee and pancakes like they were sisters! Why couldn't she do the same? Quistis sipped at the coffee again, feeling the contents of her previously-happy stomach rustle around in nervous discontent. It shouldn't be that hard to just open her mouth and say - and say -

"I just had an idea," Rinoa said, completely interrupting her thoughts. A small smile was on the girl's face, and she looked to suddenly be in a much better mood. "I was in Deling City last weekend - you remember, Squall had that day-long meeting and you and Zell were on mission, anyway, I went shopping. And I bought -" Here she leaned across the table, and gave Quistis a real smile. "The cutest little set of lingerie ever."

Quistis blinked. "Oh?" Her voice was rather high-pitched, and she cursed herself for sounding like such an idiot.

Rinoa grinned. "It's this little black set, right, with these lacy boy-shorts and a bra with a little bit of lace..." She gestured with her hands, and Quistis tried to stoically sip her coffee and not turn Firaga-red.

"And I could... that might be a good way to make an apology, huh?" Rinoa turned a lock of hair around her finger. "Squall always liked black. Maybe I could... surprise him with it, just as a... nice gesture."

"That would probably work," Quistis managed to choke out. For Hyne's sake, what was she so upset about? The thought of Rinoa in lingerie, while slightly off-putting, wasn't exactly enough to make her flustered. It was more the - the _talk_ of lingerie. Of Squall, and Rinoa, and lingerie. Lace. Quistis didn't even _own_ any lacy underwear.

 _And why not?_ she thought bitterly. Rinoa and Squall, the world's most highly combustible couple, had access to lacy panties. And a reason to wear them - _or take them off,_ her brain added spitefully. Whereas all she'd had was G-rated groping in the sand with a boy she wasn't even officially _dating_ \- a boy she couldn't even meet up with during the day. The only thing she'd slept with recently was a stuffed chocobo plushy!

"Oh, Quistis," Rinoa said, and she heard real compassion in the girl's voice. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep talking about my relationship when you're..."

"What?" Quistis froze, coffee mid-way to her lips. "When I'm _what?_ "

"Single," Rinoa offered. "And lonely."

Quistis opened her mouth to protest - to finally tell Rinoa, once and for all, that she had some kind of strange, absurd, inexplicable feelings for Zell Dincht. That the feelings had blossomed throughout their missions together. That Zell had groped her in a dance club in Balamb. Her mouth wasn't moving, however, no matter how hard she tried to overcome that instinctive barrier and just say it. _I - LIKE - ZELL,_ Quistis thought, very strongly, hoping the words would finally come out of her mouth. _Why is this so hard to do?_

Rinoa smiled. "Look, Squall will be gone all day today, and I'm going to be lonely myself," she said. "Will you spend the day with me? I know - I know it makes you mad, but I met a couple of really nice guys in that magic class I was speaking in, and I really think you'd hit it off. None of them are Trepies, and both of them are really, really good-looking."

Quistis desperately closed her mouth. _This is what I get,_ she thought forlornly, _for never opening up to anyone ever in my life._ "I..." she stammered, trying to think of some kind of excuse. Classes? Nope, she was suspended. Mission? Nope, no luck with that - she would've jumped at the chance to mission with Zell again at this point. Traveling out of the country? Sounded flimsy.

"I guess so," she said lamely, and was rewarded by a surprisingly bright smile spreading across Rinoa's face. Well, at least she could make Rinoa happy - even if she, herself, was miserable. "But I get to be in charge of these... set-ups, alright? No supervision, no babysitting. And if they don't go well, I get to call them off. Whenever I choose."

"Of course, Quisty," Rinoa said, still beaming. "I - we made some mistakes before, I understand that, and I know that it's totally your choice as to who you go out with and who you don't. Just give these boys a chance! Seriously, it might surprise you!"

Quistis sighed, looking down at her plate. Here she'd set off early in the day to find Zell - and now she was stuck going on a date with another guy! She felt slightly guilty about having agreed to Rinoa's plan. The sensible, rule-following part of her brain tried to silence the other part. It wasn't as if she and Zell were officially dating, or doing anything, really. And Zell could've come to find her if he really wanted to see her. No, these dates would be okay.

A tiny guilty weight settled in her gut. Maybe... maybe seeing some other guy would break this - this bizarre spell that Zell had on her. Maybe she just thought she liked Zell because he was the first guy to really show an interest in her in a long time. Maybe going on another date, even a simple one, would help sort out some of these little insecurities that kept popping up every time Zell made his way into her thoughts. Which, by the way, was far too often - Quistis Trepe hadn't come this far in her career to end up constantly wanting a man at her side. If she was still so unsure about things... well, she didn't trust her feelings, to be frank.

This was ridiculous. Honestly, if she couldn't even _talk_ about Zell in front of Rinoa, how in the world did she actually think she'd be able to have a relationship with him? Maybe... maybe another blind date would be what it took to break out of this... Zell thing.

Quistis nodded, decisively. She wasn't doing anything wrong, really; in fact, she was probably doing something helpful, right?

As they stood up from the table, however, Quistis couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of doubt and regret. There was a part of her that would rather be out on a mission with Zell, bashing in the heads of monsters (or, really, Seifer and Raijin) and laughing together.

**x.x.x.**

"Settle down, everyone!" The short, thin-lipped girl known as Trepie #16 glared over the small gathering of students in the hallway, her face slowly turning red as the half-murmured conversations continued despite her call to order. "Hey, I said quiet down!" she tried again, this time more loudly. When the din continued unabated, she finally sighed and rubbed her forehead. Then, widening her eyes, she pointed down the hallway and took a deep breath. "Hey, look, it's Instructor Trepe!"

A low whistle filled the air, created by the sound of several heads whipping around in unison. Then there was a general murmur of discontent as many pairs of eyes landed on the unrepentant girl who was the source of the brief moment of panic. She only put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Now that I have your attention," she said slowly and clearly, "Can we finally begin this meeting?"

"Lame," Zell mumbled to himself under his breath, trying to peer as inconspicuously as possible from behind the bulkhead he was pressed against. He winced as his neck cricked, feeling a little foolish for having fallen for the trick along with everyone else. Then again, he had a reason to be actually paranoid rather than 'merely' obsessive. Having a group of relatively anonymous cadets stalk her was one thing; Zell was pretty sure that if Quistis found out he was voluntarily hanging around the Trepies in any capacity, she would find new and interesting ways to bring meaning to the term "whiplash." He shut his mouth quickly and eased back around the corner as he heard the voices start up once again.

"- since he was transferred to the Sanitation Department. I even heard he was the one responsible for the incident at Felicia's," the girl was saying.

"Yeah," someone else agreed. "Besides, I didn't like the way he was always squinting at Instructor Trepe."

Zell chuckled to himself: even the _Trepies_ could tell that Squinty was an annoying little bastard, seriously. This was a sign! He _clearly_ needed to stop feeling guilty about the prank he and Quisty had played. He and the Trepies almost had the same nickname for - _Wait,_ Zell thought, groaning. He didn't want to think like a Trepie!

The conversation had continued. "Not only did he injure Instructor Trepe, he ignored our most important maxim: One for all, and all for one! Nobody gets Instructor Trepe to himself!"

"Or herself!" a higher-pitched voice piped in with indignation.

A tense silence settled as a roomful of Trepies attempted to give each other suspicious death glares. Zell ducked back behind his cover to avoid the malevolent waves rising from the gathered group and grit his teeth. He did manage to successfully resist the urge to put a hole through the bulkhead. Besides instantly revealing his position to the meeting he was eavesdropping in on, he just knew Squall would find out about it. There weren't too many people who could manage to put fist-shaped holes through three inches of tempered steel. Actually, there was only one, to be specific, because Squall had very clearly told him so the last time he was brought in for accidentally "aerating" a few of Garden's walls. And he really didn't need that suspension to be extended - particularly when the faculty was beginning to make noise about the T-board skid marks that were now decorating the Quad's railings. No, stealth was important in this mission.

Surreptitiously, Zell checked on Diablos and received the equivalent of an irritated grunt from the GF in question. Apparently the demonoid thought it was beneath him to use his abilities on something as mundane as eavesdropping on the weekly Trepie meeting. That, or he had been Junctioned to Zell for long enough that the very human desire to just come out and give the Trepie collective a good Gravija for simply talking about Quistis was bleeding through.

An angry murmur rippled through the gathered students. "I hereby move to revoke all membership privileges and benefits from Martin DeBrye, formerly known as Trepie Number 12."

"Seconded," came an immediate reply.

"Does that mean I get to take the number 12 now?"

"But I wanted it!"

"I'm before you in line," someone snapped. "And I'd like to be number 12."

"What's so special about 12?" called a new voice.

"It's her favorite number."

 _What?_ Zell scratched his head, puzzled. It was the first piece of information the Trepies had come up with about Quistis that he hadn't known. It was kind of surprising to him - although he was more surprised that Quistis would even bother with favorite numbers and that sort of superstitious nonsense. Oh well, he obviously couldn't know her better than people who had been stalking her for years -

"Um," said Trepie #16, drawing the meeting attention back to herself. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't have a favorite number. I think that Squinty - _Martin,_ " she corrected quickly, "- just told us that to make himself seem more important."

Zell grinned to himself. There was another round of low grumbling from the crowd, however. Zell noted that this amount of hostility seemed pretty unusual even for the Trepies, who were notorious in their possessive behavior. Something was bothering them, and it seemed to be a concern that reached further than just the Squinty issue.

"Right," #16 continued, checking her clipboard. "The number 12 will be left vacant for now - as a reminder for those who forget the Trepie Code!" She shook the clipboard at the crowd. "So, next issue... Quistis Cards!"

There was another widespread murmur from the crowd, this one slightly less fierce. Zell caught more than one Trepie fingering his (or her) breast-pocket lovingly. _Eww,_ he thought to Diablos. _Do they actually keep their cards on them all the time?_ Well... that _would_ explain the funny smell that surrounded many of the more devout Trepies.

"There have been three Quistis Cards lost to the Card Club within the past week!" Trepie #16 exclaimed. "That's horrible, guys! Remember, we need to earn those Quistis Cards and then protect them! You can't play them, and you can't let someone else who beats you take them!"

"How do we get a Quistis Card?" The voice was high and squeaky; Zell guessed it was a first-year. He listened eagerly for the response.

"None of us are giving them up," someone else snapped back. "You'll have to wait until they print more."

"I've got two!" someone in the crowd crowed; there was a loud, multi-person groan. "One to keep around my neck, next to my heart, and one to keep -"

"That's _enough,_ " #16 said, although she didn't really look surprised. "Anyway, that's just a general announcement. Be more careful with those, guys! Quistis Cards are rare and valuable!"

Zell shook his head, trying his hardest to be amused rather then _revolted._ This was ridiculous - yeah, Quisty's Card was good and all, but it was just a picture of her. Was it the fact that Quistis herself was such a formidable Card-player? Or - no, could it be that the Trepies were _obsessive weirdos?_

"- to our final item," the girl was saying. "Our Current Events group has picked up on the fact that Instructor Trepe has a couple dates this week, so let's all just stay calm and rational while those are going on and make sure she has a good time."

Zell froze. The first thought which flew through his brain was that the Trepies had found out about him and Quistis, and that they were going to round the corner and _hurt him._ The second thought calmed the panic a bit: this new Trepie leader seemed adamant that Quistis was to remain unharassed during her dates. So hey, maybe he and Quistis would be able to sit through an entire meal together without a medical emergency this time! The _third_ thought was what filled him with rage: he and Quisty didn't have any dates planned this week! None at all! So who were they -

"Who is it?" called a voice from the crowd.

"None of your business," #16 said sternly. "Rinoa Heartilly is setting her up with someone this week, and Instructor Trepe has accepted. We'll need surveillance, of course, but I want all of you to _behave._ Now, who's available tonight for first watch?"

Zell felt himself sag backwards against the wall. Quistis was going on a date with someone else - Selphie was right.

  
**.x.x.x.**

That evening found Zell Dincht sprawled across his bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering whether or not Quistis was on one of her dates right now. He wondered who she would be dating - someone Rinoa picked out, no doubt. Maybe it was a mercy date. Rinoa could be really persuasive when she wanted to be. Brightening slightly, Zell smirked to himself. Maybe Rinoa set Quisty up on a date with _Squall_ in order to beat some sense into their Commander's head. Squall _had_ been acting kinda weird for the past couple of days, if you could call acting like a dickhead "weird." If Rinoa's typical smiles and bubbles couldn't melt him, then maybe it was time to call in the big guns after all - Quisty did have a mean right hook, when you got down to it. He'd taught it to her himself.

The memory brought a smile to his face as he rubbed his jaw. Quistis, at the tender age of fourteen, had stormed up to him and demanded that he show her how to punch somebody "the proper way."

"I dunno - you just hit 'em," he'd told her rather cluelessly at that time. Seeing her annoyed expression, he'd tried a more direct tactic: "Well, why don'tcha try an' hit me?"

"Like this?" she'd answered, jabbing at him weakly with a fist, which he easily blocked.

"Geez, you punch like such a _girl!_ " he'd answered derisively, and that was when her fist had come out of nowhere and scored a hit on his jaw that had him seeing stars. She seemed apologetic afterwards, if only for the fact that her hand was obviously smarting from decking him. Zell hadn't really minded, though - he had asked for it, in a way. Instead, he'd simply grinned up at her from the floor, holding up his own hand. "Next time hold your fist like this -" he demonstrated - "then it won't hurt your knuckles so bad."

He'd only been thirteen at the time, more interested in T-boards and comics than chasing after girls. Heck, Zell hadn't even understood the whole mysterious appeal of dating until the others had clued him in on Piggy's supposed infatuation last year. In hindsight, he now wondered why he hadn't noticed Quistis earlier. She really was something else.

Lucky for him that Squall couldn't see that. The smile dropped off of Zell's face abruptly. What if Rinoa really had asked Quistis to get through to Squall? He was taken, right? Quistis didn't like him anymore anyway. And maybe it wasn't a date with Squall after all. Maybe it was a date with some other random guy Rinoa had selected. Rinoa's preference in guys seemed to run towards the tall, dark and broody types - and Seifer, but then again, Seifer was clearly unavailable (Zell was suddenly, guiltily proud of the fact that they hadn't managed to bag Seifer on their last mission). Actually, up until recently, he'd figured Quistis had preferred those types too. So... Rinoa was probably setting up Quistis with some tall, dark and broody guy who might or might not be Squall.

Either scenario left him with a rapidly sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, a whisper of insecurity coupled with a serious need to hurt something. Preferably Quistis' date. He was supposed to be doing all the dating with Quistis here, not some messed-up Squall wannabe!

Restlessly, Zell rolled off of his bed and began bouncing on the balls of his feet. The abused punching bag in the corner caught his eye, and immediately he began to lay into it. A small warm-up first, two quick punches, then a kick. Two more punches, then another kick. Glaring at the offending sack, he gave it another few hits. _Left-right. Left-right. That little crease in the leather right there kinda looks like Squall's scar. Left-RIGHT!_

With an indignant wheeze, the punching bag split open and began to spew a steady stream of corn onto the floor. Annoyed, Zell glared at the tiny kernels so furiously he was surprised they didn't pop. _Oh, hey!_ He paused and brightened, his dark mood somewhat alleviated as he considered the possibilities. That was a great idea for a date! He could just call Quisty over, and she could try and pop 'em, what with the amount of control she could exercise over her fire spells -

Groaning, Zell plunked back down on his bed and buried his face into his palms. There would be no popcorn-popping dates with Quistis this week. She was busy. Busy with _other guys._

Shooting up from his bed, Zell stomped over to his desk and switched on the lamp, reaching for the first comic book he could find. He flipped it open and skimmed the page, hungry for any distraction from his thoughts of Quistis. A buxom blonde pouted at him with sultry blue eyes and luscious red lips. Squinting at the image, Zell let out a groan. It was the special limited edition from that Timber-based comic publishing group, the one run by Zone and Watts. "Forest Owl Comics" was what they were calling themselves, and they seemed to specialize in retelling exaggerated, fanciful renditions of the actual events behind the most recent Sorceress War. "Squall Leonheart and the Last Crusade: Adventures in Time Compression" had been the #1 bestseller worldwide for several weeks now, much to everyone except Squall and Quistis' delight. Squall, because he was a party pooper who probably didn't like comics anyway. Quistis, more because she had a couple of big problems with the way she was portrayed in said comics. Problems which were currently staring up at him from the inked page, straining against their tattered, almost-bursting bikini top. _Big_ was perhaps an understatement. _Gigantic_ seemed more appropriate, in fact. Besides the obvious inaccuracy in Quistis' physique, Zell was also pretty sure that even with Time Compression, he would've remembered if Quistis had worn a ripped battle thong to their final showdown with Ultimecia.

Still... it did beg the question. What _would_ Quistis look like in a battle bikini, posed provocatively with her whip, her hip jutting out just so as she stared seductively up at him over the rim of her sparkling glasses -

Zell slammed the comic book shut with a curse and threw it across the room. This was definitely not helping at all. He needed a cold shower. Or Quistis in his room, right now. Or a cold shower. Or to be in Quistis' room, right now. Except there might be another guy there. Wait a second, now his blood was starting to boil for a completely different reason - one that no cold shower would cure.

 _Focus, Zell!_ he could almost hear Quistis scolding him, her voice akin to the crack of her whip. Once it would've made him cringe and run for the Infirmary - anything to get those stern tones out of his head. But now Zell knew what was behind it: Quistis simply wanted to help everyone around her; she just sometimes didn't know how to show it, let alone say it. Although, Zell thought idly, between Selphie's sidelong glances and Rinoa's nervous giggling, Quistis' more-direct method of communication sometimes had its advantages. At least she was honest and - dammit, he was thinking about her again. Things were getting ridiculous.

"Focus," he repeated to himself, slumping over his chair and worrying a palm through his hair. What he needed was a distraction. Some way to spend all this nervous energy without breaking something. Too bad the TC was off limits. Zell cracked an eye open and peered at his desk, frowning and sweeping the comics littered over it to the floor. His hand paused as it hovered over a stained, wrinkled book that had nothing to do with the various other forms of 'literature' he had been disposing of - it was his dog-eared copy of the SeeD manual.

Well, there was no way to cool your blood faster than trying to read that thing. With a shrug, Zell pulled it over and flipped the book open, idly paging through it. Quistis had said that he had the potential to be a Trainer, right? But... Trainers didn't need to know all that much stuff from the SeeD manual. The brainiac part of the equation was left for the academics, those applying to be Instructors, not him. On a whim, he flipped to section 23-A, paragraph 113, sub-paragraph 2a, a wry smile crossing his face as he remembered the first application question he had tried to answer.

"Civil Disputes between Developed and Underdeveloped Parties," he read aloud, his finger tracing the words. Silently, he worked his way through the first few passages, pausing with a wrinkled brow over more than a few of the longer words as he mouthed them to himself. Finally, with a sigh of frustration, he reached for his dictionary and began to flip through that as well.

Fifteen minutes later, Zell stared triumphantly at the now-heavily-annotated passage in the SeeD manual, re-reading the entire paragraph to himself. "The hell?" he yelled after letting the information sink in. "Why'd they take two whole pages just to tell us that Garden doesn't hire out as executioners?" It really wasn't that hard to understand at all - at least, not if you had the dictionary in your lap while you were reading it.

Frowning, Zell decided to test his theory. He flipped to a new segment of the manual, picking up his pen and rubbing the ink off of his fingertips. "Man... this would be so much cooler if Rinoa would hook me up with some of her stuff," he grumbled after a while. Then again, it wasn't as though she hadn't offered him his own set of glitter pens. Zell had just refused them on the grounds that he _never wrote._ "Sure would come in handy now," he muttered to himself. At least those pens came in different colors. Between the cramped margins and the ink stains, it was getting hard to tell some of his notes apart. Maybe there was something to be said for all that color-coding post-it shit Quistis was doing to her books after all.

"Huh," Zell said to himself, flipping to the start of the manual when he was finished. It wasn't really all that boring, he decided, once you cut through all the crap. After all, he was a SeeD, and the manual was just regurgitating what he'd been taught for the past eight years of his life. He wondered why the authors of said manual had tried so hard to make it obtuse. No wonder Squall, Quistis and Xu had those semi-permanent wrinkles between their eyes, the same ones Cid often had when he was still at Garden. They were the only people he could remember who had ever made serious attempts to read and understand the SeeD manual.

Nervously, Zell reached a stained finger up towards his forehead, unknowingly giving himself an ink smudge between his eyes. His fingers traced over the bridge of his nose, and after a moment he let out a sigh of relief on feeling the smoothness of the skin there. Maybe the wrinkles came with gradual exposure, kind of like what happened to the Card Queen after years of striving to maintain that 'naturally tanned' look.

He shuddered and turned his attention back to the less horrific of topics on his mind - understanding the SeeD manual.

"Y'know," Zell mumbled thoughtfully to himself. "Maybe all this thing needs is someone to translate it. I bet more people would actually read it then. And afterwards, their faces wouldn't come out lookin' like prunes." Well... that was doable, right? He already had the dictionary, eliminating any need to travel to the danger zone known as the Library, and he certainly had more than enough free time.

Grunting with determination, Zell reached for a few sheets of blank paper - some digging was required before he actually found any that weren't wrinkled - and settled with the dictionary to one side of his desk and the opened SeeD manual to the other. He took a deep breath and paused, his pen poised over the pristine white sheet.

"Somethin' here ain't right," Zell muttered to himself uncomfortably, staring at the sheet of paper. It was a little... intimidating. Cautiously, he lowered the pen and drew an squiggly black line across the top of the page, being careful to curl the end upwards. There. Now it was no longer an intimidating slate, daring him to accomplish the nigh-impossible - to read the SeeD manual from start to finish - but simply a plain old sheet of paper, decorated with a curly moustache, kinda like the one that waiter at Felicia's had worn. Smiling, Zell leaned over the manual and began to read, then stopped himself once again.

"Naw... something still ain't right," he added, glancing back down at the paper. Like a bolt of lighting, inspiration suddenly struck. "This is a mission," Zell breathed, clutching his pen a little more tightly. "An' every mission needs a code name!" He chewed on the cap of his pen, and then, brightening, hunched over the table and began to scribble furiously. When he was done, he sat back, grinning in satisfaction.

"Danger Dincht's SeeD Manual for Dummies," he read aloud. "Yeah, this is gonna be _awesome!_ "


	15. In Which Prince Charming Goes Poof

Quistis stared blankly at her plate. Despite the delicious aroma wafting from the carefully prepared food, her stomach was too knotted to enjoy the home-cooked meal before her. Her date, in consideration of her ongoing suspension, had gone to the trouble of preparing her a romantic evening inside of Balamb Garden. That alone was enough to gently prompt Quistis into polite enjoyment of the situation - even if it was, in truth, a feigned enjoyment. Her face was starting to ache slightly from stretching into unwilling smiles, and she pushed the noodles on her plate around with an air of discontent. Perfectly cooked, she noted. No clumping, no mystery peppers in the sauce, no danger of seeing napkins used as bibs on this date. It was a perfectly _romantic_ dinner.

"Enjoying your meal?" Blue eyes twinkled at her from across the table, and Quistis did have to hand it to Rinoa - she certainly had a good eye. James, as her date had introduced himself, was so ruggedly handsome that he could have passed for a male model. In fact, he actually was the poster boy for SeeD recruitment - his face was printed across every promotional flyer that Garden handed out. James was permanently stationed at Galbadia Garden, but apparently Rinoa had managed to befriend him during his Balamb stopover on the annual Garden Awareness and Promotion tour. Rinoa never really had trouble befriending _anyone._

It was easy to see why he had been chosen - besides the good looks, he was intelligent and had both a great sense of humor and impeccable manners. In other words, he was just as _perfect_ as their dinner-date, in every conceivable way. Quistis had spent the first half of the evening scrutinizing him, searching for some crack in his demeanor, some clue that Garden's charismatic spokesperson was _less_ than he seemed to be, but either James was a very good actor or the genuine article. Despite her best efforts, no amount of her usual scathing repartee had revealed any signs of weakness or duplicity. In fact, James seemed to quite enjoy the less-than-flattering attention she had been smothering him under.

"You're one of the few people I've met who hasn't tried to put me up on some kind of impossible to reach pedestal," he'd eventually replied to her exasperation with his unflappable calm. "It's refreshing."

Quistis had mentally winced at his response, mostly because she understood what he meant perfectly thanks to the Trepies. And despite her misgivings, she had to admit that she was almost enjoying herself on this little date so far. Under any other circumstances, Quistis suspected she would have found James to be more than just good company for the evening - he was intelligent, devastatingly attractive and very obviously interested in her. It was what Quistis had always hoped for. It was the stuff of fairy tales. It was the kind of date that usually only happened to people like Rinoa. It was quite possibly one of the best dates of her life, if just because nothing had gone wrong - absolutely nothing at all. So... why couldn't she stop comparing him to Zell? Quistis caught herself suppressing a small sigh of disappointment.

"Is something wrong?" James asked, leaning over the table and grasping her hand gently in concern. Quistis had to clamp down on the urge to snatch her fingers away and instead forced another rigid smile across her face.

"I'm sorry, James... the dinner is lovely, and it was very thoughtful of you to reserve the entire Quad just for this evening together." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Her date released her hand reluctantly. "I hear a 'but' in there, Quistis." He sighed. "It's okay, you can tell me what's on your mind. I promise you I won't be upset."

Quistis resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Who was that _nice_ all the time? Was this guy raised by Moombas? Recognizing that her reaction to her date's friendly overtures was out of line, Quistis put some effort into quelling her hostility before she spoke. "It's nothing you've done, James. It's just..." She sighed and played with the stem of her wine glass. "I'm not ready for a relationship at this point in time."

"Hnn," James replied, leaning back in his chair. "I don't think that's it," he observed, and Quistis added _perceptive_ to her mental checklist. "I think there's someone else," he continued, and then shook his head ruefully. "I can't say I'm surprised. You seem like a wonderful woman, Quistis. My guess is that someone's already recognized that." He paused, his brows furrowing in a way that should have sent Quistis swooning were she in her right mind. "I only wonder why Rinoa doesn't seem to know it yet. She is your friend, isn't she?"

"Of course she is!" Quistis said quickly, feeling her cheeks color with guilt. "It's just... well, I haven't had the - the opportunity to speak to her about this yet." _Liar,_ she blasted herself.

"Do you want to talk about it?" James asked her carefully. Seeing Quistis' expression darken, he raised his hands in self-defense. "It was just an offer. Relax, I'm not forcing you to do anything." He sighed again, shaking his head as he pushed his chair back and stood from the table. "This is the first time my fettuccine alfredo has failed," he added with a smirk. "That's one for the history books."

Quistis allowed herself a small, genuine smile at his banter; mostly, it was a sense of relief that was washing through her, that James was indeed nice enough to recognize that the "date" was already over. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you were expecting to get out of our rendezvous, but I'm willing to bet this evening wasn't it. You've been a perfect gentleman the entire time and in return I've treated you poorly, haven't I."

To her surprise, James simply offered her his arm with another blinding smile of his own. His teeth were so straight and white that she wondered if he wore dentures. _Nobody's that perfect,_ Quistis reminded herself sternly.

"Relax, Quistis. You don't have to apologize, nobody's perfect," James said, as if reading her thoughts. Quistis winced. "Besides, I got exactly what I wanted from this date - to spend the evening with a lovely, talented, engaging SeeD. If you'd just allow me to escort you back to your dorm, I'd consider everything worth all this effort. So maybe this isn't a successful date, but at least it's the start of a promising friendship." Then he smiled at her. _Again._ Quistis tried not to gag. What was wrong with him? Better yet, what was wrong with _her?_

Oh, and there it was. That bothersome feeling she'd been trying to beat down the entire evening, even well before the date had begun. Guilt, worrying at the corners of her mind and making her shoulders tense. Guilt at being on a "date" at all - _since when were you beholden to Zell, anyway?_ her mind whispered furiously, but it did little to ease the twisting in her stomach. And now, adding to that already nauseating mix was guilt over her callous treatment of the current date - Mr. Not-Quite-Perfect-But-Still-Right, or at least Right-Enough.

She looked over at him, waiting expectantly for her to take his proffered arm. "Look, James -" She hesitated, trying to find some way to diplomatically extract herself from his presence. His smile widened and Quistis felt her resolve crumbling. It wasn't as simple to mentally crush James under her heels as she had Squinty or her other set-ups; this time a scathing retort was actually threatening to make her feel bad. And, she thought, attacking a perfectly innocent, well-meaning bystander who was simply passing through her train wreck of a romantic life would make her no better than... well, Seifer.

 _Lighten up,_ Zell would have told her. The stray thought did nothing to assuage her feelings of guilt, but it was enough to spur Quistis to grab her date's arm and give him a firm nod. "I'd like that," she said clearly.

The walk back to the dormitories was silent and pensive and as they rounded the corner into what was usually a busy hallway, Quistis instinctively tried to distance herself from her escort. He made no move to release her arm, but she did notice the minute stiffening of his posture and the catch in his stride. Stifling another wave of self-reproach, Quistis cleared her throat uneasily. "I feel I owe you an explanation -" she began. _The hallway is empty anyway,_ she told herself sternly. _What are you so worried about?_

"There's no need to explain anything," was James' immediate response. "It was good while it lasted?"

Quistis bit back a rueful smile. "You really are a good guy," she told him. "I'm sure there's a wonderful girl waiting for you somewhere, but I'm afraid it's not me."

James remained silent, and for a while the only sound that filled the halls was the clicking of Quistis' heels as they walked through the darkened corridors. They turned in towards the girls' dormitories, and she let out an inaudible sigh of relief as they approached the door to her room. Quistis turned to her companion and gave him a wan smile, wondering just how exactly she was supposed to end her latest dating fiasco. Usually her terrible dates ended themselves before she had the opportunity to do so. "James..."

"You know," he said, cutting her off, "I don't think I've ever been dumped before. I should thank you for the new experience." Quistis thought that his smile probably looked as weak as hers.

She shifted her weight uncomfortably. _Dumped?_ a small portion of her brain shrieked. _Dumped? Can you even be 'dumped' after a single date? Or was he so sure that his fancy technique would work that he'd already assumed the 'relationship' was a done deal?_ Quistis bit her lip. She hadn't really taken the situation seriously - a date was a date, in her book; no more, and no less - but maybe, to some people, a date meant a little more. She'd never really thought about what actually defined a 'relationship' - a date? Multiple dates? A kiss?

Belatedly Quistis realized her mental musings were leading her thought train right back to the Zell Station. _There is no rule that says a couple of excessively enjoyable kisses make a relationship!_ she thought hastily, and took a deep breath. She really wasn't being fair.

"Well... I want to at least thank you for the evening." Quistis tried infusing her voice with a warmth that she wasn't really feeling. It seemed to work, because James turned to her with a smile.

"A kiss would do nicely," he replied.

Quistis immediately recoiled, remembering suddenly why she didn't do _warmth_ with a silent curse. She opened her mouth to deliver a cutting rejoinder, but stopped when she saw her date's crestfallen face.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Quistis winced, the shame and paranoia that had been dogging her throughout the evening coming back full force. _He's a nice guy_ was warring with _but he's not Zell!_ in her mind. What would be so wrong about kissing James, anyway? It wasn't like she and Zell were officially dating, she told herself again. She looked up at her companion's dark silhouette, and - couldn't stop herself from thinking about the beach, and Zell leaning over her, blocking her view of the stars. She'd never answered his kissed question then, she realized. Zell liked her - she couldn't deny that, not when she remembered how clearly and honestly he had shown her what he felt. She flushed, immediately hating herself for feeling the need to blush at all. _But do I like Zell?_ she asked herself again, focusing on the figure before her.

She looked at the dark, obscured features of Mr. Almost-Right and was suddenly furious. _Why can't I choose,_ she thought ferociously, the bloom on her cheeks darkening. _Why can't I choose who I want to be with? Why should I be a slave to my own feelings?_ Quistis felt the muscles in her jaw tighten as her teeth clicked together.

 _Kissing Zell was very nice,_ a soft mental whisper reminded her, the same teasing whisper that was suggesting that she trust her feelings - those very feelings that were turning her well-ordered life into chaos. _Oh, remember what happened the last time you "trusted your feelings," hmm?_ the more rational part of her mind buzzed. And she saw another beautiful, star-riddled evening sky, when her heart had lodged in her throat and butterflies flocked her stomach, long before she had even looked at Zell. The night those feelings had been hurled back in her face like the weapons they were. She remembered, too, shoving a slightly-intoxicated Irvine off of her arm months later, knowing exactly what he was trying to steer her away from, but still needing to see it with her own eyes - the same place where she finally learned that emotions could cut more sharply than any weapon. On that night, once again, she'd felt the razor-sharp prick of her heart being pierced while another perfect couple found happiness in each others' arms.

 _Trust my feelings,_ Quistis wanted to laugh bitterly. _Trust my emotions, my raging hormones, my utter lack of practice. They've taught me so much already, haven't they?_

"Quistis? Are you alright?"

She was jolted back into the present, focusing on the man looming over her. His hands were on her shoulders, his eyes full of concern. But he wasn't Zell. It felt wrong.

"It looked like you weren't really all there," he said to her, his grip loosening. "I've heard that extensive GF usage can cause memory problems. Are you -"

Quistis tuned him out, staring instead at his darkened face and trying to inspire some - any, really - type of romantic response in herself. Something to prove that she hadn't completely lost control of herself, that she was still in possession of her mind, or at the very least her basic motor skills. _Maybe practice is all I need,_ she told herself, reaching for his chin. _Maybe this will finally cure my insanity with Zell._ She didn't notice when he stopped talking; she ignored the buzzing wrongness in her ears and resolutely pressed her mouth against his.

His lips were warm and slightly dry; they were also unusually stiff, as though he hadn't been expecting her sudden assault - which was probably an accurate assessment. He warmed up to her soon enough, drawing closer and attempting to deepen the kiss. His arms felt foreign, his hands heavy against her waist. His breath was faintly acrid; he tasted like stale pasta and bitter wine. She noticed, all too clearly, that his nose bumped uncomfortably against hers, and that she didn't particularly enjoy the smell of his aftershave. But more than anything else, Quistis felt most keenly the lack of spark - that overwhelming emotion that could make her lose herself in Zell's kiss. If she tried hard enough, she could convince herself that kissing her date was pleasant at best, but what she really felt was a yawning sense of disappointment coupled with a good dose of emptiness.

It was official. She, Quistis Trepe, had lost her heart once again. And she hadn't even noticed it happening this time.

They broke off the kiss by silent mutual agreement and parted awkwardly. Quistis managed to curb the sudden, childish urge to wipe her lips against the back of her hand. She looked up sharply at the sound of his voice.

"Well, I guess that seals it, huh?"

Quistis was suddenly glad that it was too dark to see his eyes; she felt ashamed of herself - she had used him, she realized, in a way that made Squall's blunt honesty seem almost kind by comparison. "... I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Mr. Almost-Right - _James,_ she corrected herself, noticing that she was picking up Zell's penchant for nicknames - let out a low, self-depreciating laugh. "I wish I could say I wasn't jealous," he said. He held up his hand, cutting off her reply. "Maybe it's best if we don't see each other again," he continued soberly. "Goodnight, Quistis." And, as smoothly as he had arrived at her doorstep, he melted away into the shadows. Try as she might, she couldn't help but feel anything other than relief at the conclusion of her latest dating fiasco.

"What in Hyne's name is wrong with me?" she breathed softly, turning around and stepping quickly towards her door. Quistis touched her fingertips lightly to her chin - and then quickly swiped her palm across her lips, giving in to her previous desire. It wasn't so much that she wanted to scrub off the remainder of the kiss, more that she wanted to wipe away her guilt for seeking it out in the first place. Still - even after she dropped her hand away from her mouth, her lips still burned with the intense feeling of shame.

**.x.x.x.**

"What in Hyne's name is wrong with me?"

Zell's fingers curled around the handles of the clamps as he heard Quistis' soft exclamation float through the empty corridor. It was a good question; a question he was just itching to ask her, in fact. Quistis always did ask the best questions. It was because she was the smartest out of their entire group of friends - all of Garden, maybe. She'd always known exactly what she wanted and what she was doing, something that had continually befuddled and impressed Zell. He knew he wasn't anything like Quistis - he didn't make plans or think things through; he preferred to follow his gut feeling and instincts. Usually (though not always) they kept him out of more trouble than they caused. And at the moment, they were all he had to rely on.

Maybe he was having trouble thinking because of all the blood rushing to his head - he _had_ been hanging upside-down from the ceiling for a pretty long time now. Or maybe it was because he'd skipped dinner to see what, exactly, Quistis had been up to. He'd just been so sick of waiting around doing nothing while listening to the rumors the Trepies were spreading, when Quistis was _right there_ within his reach. So he'd followed her. And now, Zell wasn't sure if following his guts had been the right thing to do. Silently, he reversed his grip on the Garden-issue wall-scaling suction equipment and released the pressure. Flipping expertly in mid-air, he righted himself and landed on the balls of his feet with a quiet thump, dismissing Diablos' ENC-None field. It was enough to jerk Quistis out of her contemplation; she practically jumped off of her own wall and turned to face him immediately, her blue eyes unnaturally wide.

"Zell?" she asked, her eyes traveling from him to the ceiling and then back again. He wasn't surprised when she didn't ask him what he was doing out past curfew, waiting for her at the door to her dorm room. She cut to the heart of the matter like the top-ranked SeeD that she was. "How much did you see?"

Zell clenched his hands into fists at his side, trying very hard to remember what he'd read in the SeeD manual about the careless destruction of Garden property. He attempted to recite passages of the manual that he'd practically memorized in the hopes of distracting himself enough to keep from doing something stupid - like destroying the hallway, or worse yet, running down the hallway and destroying _James._ He gave up after miserably failing to recall what "forthright" actually meant.

Zell opened his eyes to find Quistis still staring at him with an expression of distressed anticipation. Just seeing her there, standing in the shadows of the hallway physically hurt; her look of guilt was so heavy he could almost feel it slamming into the pit of his stomach, robbing him of breath and sapping away the furious energy that had filled him seconds ago. The only thing it left behind was a raw, shocked feeling of _pain._

"I thought maybe Rinoa forced you into this. I mean, I know I'm not - that I ain't - I'm not like you, Quistis." She flinched at the use of her full name; it felt awkward coming out of his mouth. He forced himself to look at her, a flash of anger returning to temporarily allay the dull feeling of betrayal that was siphoning away the energy to move. "Why? Why'd you _kiss_ him?"

Quistis remained silent for a few moments; she could have been the replacement for her destroyed stony counterpart in the Balamb Market Square. When she finally did speak, she couldn't meet his eyes. "I had to find out," she admitted quietly. "I... I needed to know that what I felt was real -"

"What _you_ felt?" Zell yelled, his face paling before immediately flushing darkly. "What about what _I_ felt, huh? Did'ya even think about that when you were testin' him out?" He slowed down, breathing hard through his nose. "Were you even gonna tell me, Quisty?" The sudden silence that loomed between them was a loud enough answer for Zell, and he felt himself sag in defeat. "I thought we were - I mean, I thought you an' me -" Exhaling heavily, he ran an uneasy hand through his hair.

"I know I'm dumb," he finally bit out; it wasn't what he'd meant to say, but he was fumbling with his words, trying to come up with something meaningful enough to describe the absolutely shitty way he was feeling - the way she was making him feel. Fancy words had never been his strong point. Finally, he gave up.

"Sorry for messin' up your life," he mumbled, feeling like the world's biggest fool. She didn't say anything, and he couldn't look at her because even just standing there felt like she was performing a Degenerator inside of his chest, and he had to get away from her just so he could _breathe_ again. Somehow he managed to turn himself around, woodenly gathering the scattered equipment he'd dropped. He froze when he felt her hand on his shoulder - he hadn't even heard her approaching him.

"Zell," she said firmly, and a bit of the old Instructor-tone was leaking back into her voice, commanding him to stop what he was doing and pay attention to her. "That kiss... this whole date - I wasn't trying to hurt you," she told him.

"Yeah, well you know what? You did!" Zell snapped, whirling around and accidentally shoving her backwards. She stumbled, off balance for a few steps as he followed her, the anger flaring up once more. "Sorry to burst your bubble."

Quistis swallowed, and said very clearly, "I was only trying to -"

"You're just tryin' to get rid of me!" Zell shot back before he could stop himself. "It's 'cause I'm not good enough, right? Not smart enough, not cool enough - obviously not even _good-lookin'_ enough to make Rinoa's dream date list! Naw, I'm just stupid, embarrassing ol' Zell, the guy who kissed you a few times that you don't wanna tell anyone about!" He stopped suddenly, realizing he'd backed Quistis up against the wall, but his fury was still raging. "I know I'm not a - a _Squall,_ but I'm NOT gonna be some kind of dirty secret of yours either!"

Quistis had gone pale and he realized suddenly how close she was, and that the last time they'd been this close in the darkness he'd actually been kissing her, not trying to verbally eviscerate her. He closed his eyes, took a step back, and breathed deeply, fighting for calm. Belatedly Zell realized that he'd slammed the suction cups near Quistis' head with enough force to cause dents, and that no amount of pressure release was likely to free the damaged equipment from the now-mangled wall. He allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction, seeing that he had made a lasting impression on at least a part of Quistis' life, even if it was just the outer walls to her dorm room.

"I get it, alright?" he finally ground out, turning his attention back onto her. "I'm gone. See ya. So long."

To his surprise, Quistis' face was a mask of fury. He blinked; wasn't he the one who was supposed to be mad here? Basic survival instincts kicked in, and he backed away from her as she drew a deep, shuddering breath.

"So that's it?" she asked coldly, and her voice was as cutting and precise as her whip. "One date and you're going to let go of everything we felt that easily?" Her eyes were icy with challenge, her skin and hair bleached a deathly white where the moon shone. She looked like the incarnation of her favorite GF. "Might I remind you that _you_ were the one who asked _me_ for help with your date? You were the one who _tried me out_ first, Zell," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for you to worm your way into my life. I didn't need you." She stopped, her eyes widening slightly as a flash of raw panic stole across her face. Then her expression shuttered closed, as if an invisible, impenetrable wall had been raised between them. "Or maybe that's just it. Congratulations, Zell. You've surpassed your teacher's wildest expectations. I hope you enjoy your dates with Piggy now that you've finished _using_ me."

Quistis' face could have been chiseled marble, but her tone was pure venom. Zell didn't think that he'd heard her use that tone ever, not even on Seifer. For a few moments he was shocked speechless; was _that_ what she'd thought he'd been doing all this time? Screwing around with her for some kind of _experience?_ As it sunk in, Zell realized that her assumption hurt even more than actually seeing her lock lips with another guy. He also realized that she was exceedingly upset at him. And, in a moment of unusual clarity - at least, for Zell, it was pretty unusual - he realized that he was _still_ mad, and Quistis looking like she was ready to spit fire at him wasn't going to change that. But he wasn't going to let her off thinking that she'd won this blow-up - at least, not before he set her straight on one important issue.

Though she might have had a slight height advantage over him, Quistis' tight-lipped expression faltered as Zell used his dense, muscular body mass to force her back towards the wall. He put his hands against the (conveniently placed) clamp handles and thrust his face against Quistis' until the back of her head knocked against the wall, glaring all the while. She stared back at him defiantly, as if daring him to test the limits of her patience - if there was one thing Quistis knew well from her years of instructing at Garden, it was how not to be bullied. That was fine, though - he wasn't trying to bully her. Instead, he watched her carefully, waiting until the spark of anger morphed into a fleeting look of confusion; he inhaled deeply and tried to remind himself that he was mad, no matter how good she smelled or how close her lips were at that particular moment -

Said lips parted, presumably to make noise, and Zell almost forgot the reason why he was leaning in - hadn't _this,_ being this close to Quistis, having the opportunity to kiss and touch her, been exactly what he had thought was missing for the past few days? But then he caught himself and remembered that she had just kissed somebody else. He was steamed enough about that; he didn't want to be Quistis' second kiss - or worse yet, her _second-best_ kiss, a whisper of insecurity teased him.

Quistis, for her part, had lost whatever words she had been forming at his sudden proximity, and from all appearances, looked more than ready to be the recipient of any kiss he might have tried his luck with. With her face flushed and her eyes half-lowered the way they were, she definitely looked a lot more kissable than when he'd seen her swapping spit with that pretty boy model, at least. It would be so easy to give in to the pounding in his ears - to tilt his head and lean in just a tiny bit more, and his lips would be brushing hers - He reared his head back, hoping that a little space between them would clear the fuzz in his brain and tamp the uncomfortable warmth in his belly back down into plain old anger.

"I won't be dating Piggy, ever, 'cause Piggy ain't the one I want," Zell said lowly to her. Quistis' eyes shot open in surprise, and with some effort Zell loosened his grip and dropped his hands away from the wall. "Guess I'll be around if you ever figure out what you want," he added pointedly, stepping away from her.

Quistis' eyes widened. "I - of course I know what I want," she protested instinctively, bringing her chin up in an attempt to look down her nose at someone almost as tall as she was. "I always do," she added in a tone meant to be smug - but Zell could sense the uncertainty underneath her words.

"Do you?" he asked her, stepping farther back. "Do you, for real?"

Quistis opened her mouth, but no words came out. Zell looked at her one last time, hoping desperately that she'd say something _("Zell, I want you to come into my dorm room right now" was ranking high on his imaginary list)_ \- but she closed her mouth, pressing her lips together so tightly their rosy pink faded into a tense, muted white.

Talking wasn't going to get them anywhere, Zell realized. They were both too angry for anything more than insults and accusations - and somewhere, over the past couple days, they'd learnt excessively well how to push each other's buttons. Had he been thinking clearly, Zell might've realized that this in itself was a sort of good sign - or at least a sign of how well they'd come to know and understand each other. Zell wasn't thinking clearly, though; he was barely thinking at all, and the thoughts he was thinking tended more towards a dark, angry red.

"Fine, then," he said, and he turned away and headed down the hall, trying as hard as he could to walk straight and to not trip on anything and to definitely, definitely not look as if he'd just had his heart ripped out by Eden and given to Cerberus as a new chew toy.

Quistis blinked. "Of course I know what I want," she repeated, but to her surprise Zell didn't even turn at the words; he rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and then he was gone.

A muffled squeak caused Quistis' head to snap up, and for the first time she wondered if the noise of Zell's suction-cup-aided rage had alerted more than just the resident Geezards to their presence. She stared suspiciously into the darkened foliage peeking over the generous windows of the moonlit corridor, but they gave no sign of life or movement. Too quickly, Quistis realized that there was a much more immediate danger than the threat of being overheard by the local wildlife - Zell's unintended wall-reshaping might have woken up the other residents of the dormitory. Nerves frayed and unwilling to risk any further discovery that evening, Quistis quickly retreated into the safety of her own room.

**.x.x.x.**

"Mmm," Selphie sighed into Irvine's mouth.

"Mmm-hmm," he mumbled in agreement - at least, he tried to, considering the small, perky _(in more ways than one)_ girl who was currently draped all over him. She lifted a leg and planted her thigh dangerously close to his waist, and his brain reminded him quickly that it was on a vacation, and that his body had better things to be doing right now than thinking. Things like his girlfriend, in fact. Selphie seemed to delight in his sudden eagerness and melted against him - thank Hyne her jumper skirt was so short - and he briefly struggled with the mechanics of unzipping his pants while simultaneously having a girl who was trying to inhale one or both of his lungs smashed against his chest. He smiled appreciatively as Selphie pulled away from him, but it quickly morphed into a frown as he realized that she had rolled off of him completely and didn't seem to be coming back. "Somethin' you wanted to tell me about, Sefie?" he mumbled slowly, still trying to compensate for the sudden loss of her warmth.

"I felt something," Selphie whispered to him, struggling to push her skirt back down to a barely-decent level. Irvine observed the loss of thigh with a slight groan, wondering if she'd let him shoot some tranquillizers into the hapless curfew-breaking student dumb enough to interrupt the midnight tryst with his girlfriend. He squinted at her in annoyance.

"Well, _obviously,_ " he replied, gesturing at the front of his pants in frustration.

"I meant besides that," Selphie replied with a smirk, and Irvine let out a sigh of defeat, reaching for his hat. Whatever it was that was getting her excited at the moment, it certainly wasn't him. And knowing Selphie, she wouldn't be in the mood to return to her previous attentions until whatever it was that caught her interest was dealt with. He shrugged and joined her as she inched towards the wall separating the courtyard from the hallway.

"What's up, darlin'?" he murmured.

Selphie was only half-listening to him; she waved a hand in distraction as her eyes narrowed in concentration. "It was magic," she finally whispered to him. "GF magic, I think," she added. The low hum of voices spilled over the wall, catching their attention - it sounded like another guy and his girl were having a midnight tryst of their own. Irvine grinned and shot Selphie a knowing look; cumbersome as the interference might have been to their date, Sefie was never one to pass up a free show. Quickly she hauled herself up, peering through the open-air window into the corridor. There was a moment of stunned silence as she observed the scene unfolding before her.

"It's Zell," Selphie mouthed quietly, and Irvine felt his eyebrow lifting. _Zell?_ Zell was, admittedly, too much of a chicken to ever venture into the girl's dorms after-hours, unless... maybe whatever he was doing there involved Quistis. Suddenly interested, Irvine scooted next to Selphie and peered over the windowsill to see for himself. His other eyebrow joined the first as he observed the scene before him; Zell was standing rigidly in the corridor, having some kind of stare-down with a surprised-looking Quistis. He shook his head silently; didn't that boy already know that _nobody_ won stare-downs with Quistis?

"She must have just come back from her date," Selphie whispered, and Irvine turned to stare at her, baffled. Hadn't the girls agreed to stop with those setups? Selphie continued quietly chattering, completely oblivious to his surprise. "Uh-oh, Quistis is gonna be _soooo_ mad! I know he's trying to pick up a few pointers, but she really hates it when people spy on her dates. I mean, she goes completely nuclear when _Rinoa and I_ follow her around!"

"Date?" Irvine mouthed incredulously, but Selphie quickly shushed him.

"Wait, I think he's saying something," she said urgently, tilting her head in an attempt to catch the faint strains of conversation. Her brow furrowed. "I think he just asked her how he's supposed to feel. Honestly, Zell can be so clueless sometimes... he should really just try dating for himself instead of bothering Quistis about it all the time."

Irvine shot a worried glance over at the two; Zell had the look of a kicked dog, and Quistis' face was contorting in ways he'd never really seen on her before. He wondered how much he should reveal to Selphie - if watching the body language of those two was any indication, things were about to come to a head. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on Selphie's back, about to suggest they make a tactful retreat and resume other, more fruitful activities, when a metallic groan silenced his words.

Selphie's jaw dropped open, and Irvine privately reminded himself once again to neither seriously upset Zell, nor challenge him to an arm-wrestling match. They both eyed the wall that had suddenly compressed under Zell's fists as he leaned forward into Quistis. Selphie's eyes grew wide.

"Is he going to KISS her?" she squeaked in surprise. Irvine, suddenly remembering a certain incident involving the Disciplinary Committee and the infamous interrupted tryst in the Secret Area, made a grab for Selphie's mouth and smothered it under his hand. It was one thing to joke about Seifer getting his from a third-year cadet, and quite another to experience it first-hand from two A-ranked SeeDs. Selphie, for her part, didn't even put up a struggle; had there not been a much more entertaining show taking place right before them, she might have bothered to glare at him. As it was, shock was rendering her surprisingly docile. Straining his ears, Irvine leaned forward.

"I know I'm not a - a _Squall,_ but I'm NOT gonna be some kind of dirty secret of yours either!" Zell was practically shouting; at the rate he was going, it wouldn't be long before they would be joined by even more spectators. Irvine squinted; what the hell was sticking out of the wall?

"What's going on?" Selphie whispered in a military-trained undertone, and Irvine opened his mouth to answer - but the sound of Quistis hissing back icily shut both of them up.

"... now that you've finished _using_ me!" Her tone of voice was more vitriolic than either of them had ever heard, even during the war. It made the entire situation absolutely clear, efficient in a brutal sort of way that only Quistis could have managed. Irvine felt Selphie stiffen beneath his grasp, and tightened his hand back over her mouth to ensure that there would be no interruptions. Quistis and Zell looked primed to destroy each other on the spot; there wouldn't even be _pieces_ left if either one of them knew their private conversation was being eavesdropped on.

They remained perfectly still as Quistis and Zell finished spitting at each other, Irvine rock-still as only a sniper could be and Selphie trembling with nervously-contained energy beneath him - and then Zell was stomping off down the hall, his face a glowering dark red. He was heading right past their window, and in one swift movement Irvine ducked, pulling Selphie down on top of him with a muffled squawk. If Zell noticed, he could hopefully plead _make-out session_ long enough for Sefie to sprint to freedom - but apparently his worries were misguided. Zell stormed right past the window, and the sound of his heavy footsteps echoed down the empty hallway Irvine knew led to the boys' dormitories.

He waited, holding Selphie tight, until the soft _shhhhf!_ of a dormitory door closing reached his ears. Only then did Irvine let his arms relax. He'd expected Selphie to be angry, but instead she sat up distractedly, her face alight with questions.

"Irvy," she whispered dramatically, "that was the best fake break-up fight I've ever seen! I mean, I know Quisty likes teaching, but that actually looked kinda painful for poor Zell."

"Darlin', I wouldn't exactly say it was fake," Irvine said absently, too preoccupied with brushing dirt and gravel off of his precious coat to see Selphie's face slowly transform from contemplation into suspicion.

"Wait," she said shrilly, "they're dating? Like _really?_ " And then after a long incriminating pause: "You knew?"

"Hey," Irvine said, raising his hands in front of him in defense (not that that would do much to keep a determined Selphie and her ferocious Limit Break off his back for long) and swallowing. "I just found out, like, a few days ago. And Zell made me promise - you know, guy stuff."

Selphie's eyes narrowed playfully. Irvine wasn't fooled for a minute. "Well," she said sweetly, "Relationships are all about _sharing,_ Irvine Kinneas. And it's past time you started. So if you want to be getting any more _girl stuff_ from me, you need to start sharing things right now."

"What kind of things?" he asked reluctantly, scrabbling for a way out of Selphie's dangerously good-humored glare.

_"Everything."_

Irvine swallowed again. _Well,_ he thought, _Zell himself just made a pretty big public scene about it and didn't seem to care. For all he knows, the Garden Gossip Mill could be posting it on that message board of theirs right now._ In fact, he wouldn't put it past the Trepie network to have some kind of mics and cameras on Quistis' dorm room. The argument could be public by tomorrow. _All the better reason to tell Selphie first,_ he thought with a shrug. _This way I get some of the credit. And the 'benefits.'_

"Zell an' Quistis started hanging out a while ago," he told Selphie. "He's got a hu-u-u-ge thing for her, Sefie, an' I'm fairly sure our Quisty fell for him too. Least," he amended hastily, "I was fairly sure until this here fight."

Selphie shook her head, grinning. "No, silly," she corrected him. "Quistis was giving Zell dating lessons. They weren't really going out on dates."

"Well, no, I reckon they weren't actually _dating,_ " Irvine amended, losing the last vestiges of his previous hesitation and giving Selphie a smug smile. It was a rare day when he got to one-up his chatty girlfriend on gossip, and frankly, he was enjoying it. "But I caught them making out at the Final Heaven a few nights ago." He paused, relishing the surprised look on Selphie's face. "Heck, if this whole thing started with dating lessons, they sure worked. I thought they were gonna drop their pants right there."

 _"Quistis?"_ Selphie squeaked with an air of incredulity. Irvine's slow nod sobered her considerably. "You're serious," she finally replied. It wasn't a question.

"Well, yeah." Irvine could already see the wheels turning in Sefie's mind. "Look, whatever was going on - lessons or whatnot - Zell likes her. A lot. An' from what we just saw over there, I'd say the feelings are - well, were - mutual, wouldn't you?" There was a tense silence as he waited for his girlfriend's reaction; a small part of him was beginning to wonder if Quistis and Zell's paranoia had actually been justified.

"Oh, super-duper-mega- _shit!_ " Selphie yelled. Irvine blinked.

"Don't you see?" she continued, passionately wringing her hands and talking faster than a Hasted chocobo. "Rinoa has been trying to set Quistis up on dates because Rinoa's still mad that she's fighting with Squall and she's still pissed about the thing with Seifer and you _know_ how having a project makes Rinoa happy, but Quistis must not have told Rinoa that she and Zell were dating or doing anything and honestly, it's not like she could've guessed it, I mean it is _Zell_ after all and everybody knows he's had that thing for the library girl since like forever, except now Zell's mad because Quisty went out on a date with James, but why wouldn't Quisty have said anything when Rinoa was setting her up on another date if she liked Zell? Are you sure they're dating? And - _ohmigod,_ " she squeaked, "I was trying to set Zell up with the girl from the Library, and no _wonder_ he wasn't excited about it if he was going with Quisty! They _are_ dating!" She paused for a breath, and Irvine braced himself for another verbal onslaught -

"Why didn't they tell us?" Selphie huffed, and folded her arms in a sulk.

Irvine shrugged, at a bit of a loss for words. "Well, you know Quisty - she's real private about her life. And Zell - well, c'mon, if Zell came up to you and told you he liked a girl, what would you do?"

"Offer to help him," Selphie said immediately. "Set him up with her, maybe. Zell needs all the help he can - _oh._ " She closed her mouth. "They didn't want us to meddle," she said sadly. "Just like Quisty said the other night at the club."

Irvine snorted. "I would've prob'ly made fun of him," he offered. "See why they didn't say anything?"

"I just don't get it!" Selphie exclaimed, giving a small flounce. "Why - why Quistis and Zell, of all people? I mean, after Rin and I did all that work and found all those Trepies who were actually nice - well, mostly nice - and she picks Zell instead, who has been there the entire time?" She pouted. "I even set her up with that _embarrassingly hot DJ_ ," she said forlornly.

"Hey," Irvine said, his brow creasing in suspicion, "I thought you weren't gonna talk to him any more after I saw him grab your ass that one time."

"Well," Selphie added hurriedly, "I guess it makes sense - Quistis and Zell, really. Zell needs somebody who'll help him concentrate, and Quisty needs somebody who'll help her loosen up." She paused, as if realizing what she'd just said. "It kind of does fit," she realized aloud - and then added, slowly, "but then, why are they fighting?"

Irvine opened his mouth to make another smart-ass remark, but Selphie just kept talking. "Quistis went on that date willingly... she's so stubborn, she wouldn't want to tell Rinoa about her own private life, no matter what. She's so convinced that she doesn't need a boyfriend - she probably just went on that date to prove to herself that she didn't want one! Quisty's so - so - she never opens up to anybody." Selphie smacked a fist into her palm. "But Zell's totally not like that at all! Once he wants something, he goes after it no matter what and he never takes no for an answer!" Her voice was rising in time to her obvious excitement. "Irvy, this is _perfect._ "

"How is this perfect? They're still fighting," Irvine reminded her. "And so are Squall and Rinoa." It was a little depressing, actually, to think that he and Selphie were the only ones left in their cadre _(that thing going on between Xu and Nida didn't count)_ to exemplify the definition of a healthy relationship. If there was one thing Irvine Kinneas had never expected to beat any of his friends at, it was commitment. Especially _romantic_ commitment. Still, he couldn't quite find it in himself to mourn the loss of his bachelor status as he watched Selphie cooking up whatever mad scheme that was running through her head at the moment. Somehow, his Sefie would always be unpredictable, and as the grin twitched at his lips he realized that he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Selphie paused a moment in her machinations to give Irvine a broad smile. "I'm glad we're not fighting, baby," she said, cheekily reaching out and bopping him on the nose with her finger.

Irvine kissed the offered finger. "Me too," he said fervently, remembering how comparatively easy his 'courtship' with Selphie had been. One day they'd kissed, she'd declared that he was hers, and that was the end of things. Or, as he preferred to think of it, the beginning. She certainly hadn't disappointed him yet - well, unless you counted the unfinished business they'd started earlier that night in the bushes. If he'd had to put up with Quistis' stubborn pride or Rinoa's temper just to get to the good parts of having a girlfriend, it might have been enough to make him question his sexuality.

"Well?" Selphie was already standing, hands on her hips, with a determined light in her bright green eyes that Irvine recognized as a particularly dangerous sign. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Irvine asked tentatively. That didn't stop him from observing that Selphie's skirt was still riding a bit too high. He eyed her hips appreciatively. "I'm ready for somethin', sweetie, but I'm not sure it's what you have in -"

"Operation Make All the Fighting Couples Get Back Together!" Selphie exclaimed, doing a little pirouette. "I'm gonna need your help too, Irvy, so come on!"

Irvine stood up. It certainly wasn't the mission plan he'd been thinking about, but an excited Selphie was always fun to be around - and besides, with so much drama in the air, there was no way in hell he was going to miss a single moment of this.

Quistis stared at the back of her door absently, damage control protocol running through her head. Not that it would help much - those clamps Zell had left attached to her wall would send the Garden rumor network blazing with the first light of day. _Well,_ Quistis thought to herself, with the Trepies fully aware that she had been on yet another date, most people would probably consider it par for the course. It was a well-known fact at Balamb that whenever someone tried to date Quistis Trepe, something inevitably came away maimed.   
  
Grimacing, she stalked over to her bed, hastily stripping off her clothes and hairclip - wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and pretend that the evening's excursion was nothing more a literal nightmare rather than a figurative one. As she dove under the coverlet, a small squeak alerted her to an unwelcome presence. Twisting, she pulled the offender out from under her pillow and gave it a long, hard glare.

Bobo stared back at her, his beady glass eyes filled with silent accusation. 

"I don't need this," Quistis groaned, thumping back against her pillows. "I don't need _you,_ " she repeated, sitting up and hurling the toy across her room. It impacted against the wall with a pathetic squeak and landed beak-up on her floor. Quistis flopped back against the bed and let out a huge sigh, forcing her eyes closed and willing herself to sleep. Less than a minute later, her eyes flew open and her hands gripped the bed sheets tightly. Uttering a curse under her breath, she threw them off and stomped across her room, forcing herself to ignore the two fist-sized dents that had cracked the paint on her wall. She crouched down by the abused plushy and picked it up, carefully dusting away the paint chips and plaster from its fuzzy yellow crown. Bobo's accusatory look didn't change, and Quistis let out a quiet sigh. 

"I don't want this," she tried again in a reasonable tone. "Love... relationships... they cause nothing but trouble. I don't need trouble in my life right now. I have enough as it is with this suspension and Seifer on the loose," she continued. 

_ That wasn't what you were saying before all those kisses happened, _ Bobo seemed to squeak at her. Quistis resisted the urge to pluck the toy's glassy eyes out and tried to ignore the fact that the Bobo in her head sounded a whole lot like Zell. At least, Zell when he wasn't on an angry rampage. Squatting on her knees, she curled the plushy against herself, bringing her forehead to rest against it. It still smelled faintly like Zell's bedroom in Balamb, she realized. 

Quistis knew she had an enormous capacity for self-deception; it was one of those things she didn't like to inspect too closely, lest it bring her scheduled, ordered way of life tumbling down around her ears. Now, however, she couldn't seem to stop picking at that sore point, wondering what on earth it was that she'd managed to do this time. _Piggy isn't the one he wants,_ Bobo whispered to her, and Quistis sighed bitterly. Apparently her relationship nightmare wasn't willing to release its grip on her yet - it was looking to be a long, sleepless night. 

"You're right, Bobo," she said finally. "I did it to myself." Things had seemed so hopeful a day or two ago, and now Quistis was almost ready to hand in her uniform and become a Moomba trainer somewhere out in Esthar. "There's no one to blame but me." She'd tried blaming Rinoa _(and her ridiculous obsession with setting up dates)_ ; she'd tried blaming Squall _(and his rejection of her ridiculous advances so long ago)_ ; she'd tried blaming James _(who was surely innocent)_ , and Seifer _(who, while still an ass, had nothing to do with her feelings)_ and she'd even tried to blame Zell... 

"It's my fault," Quistis sighed, tossing the chocobo back onto the bed and following it lethargically. "It always is, in the end. I always think I know..." _what I want,_ her brain finished the sentence for her. _What's best._ Except in this case, her famous brain had short-circuited. What she wanted - what was probably best for her - what had been right in front of her... she'd doubted it. In all honesty, she'd been afraid of it. 

Quistis curled up on her side, staring blankly at the wall, one hand idly stroking Bobo as her mind replayed the evening, over and over.  She thought about Zell, wondering once again what on earth had possessed her to kiss her date earlier that evening.  It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now as she twisted uncomfortably between the cool sheets in her bed, she wondered how she could have thought that her relationship with Zell - if it could even be called that - was lacking.  The kiss with James had been enlightening, in that sense - a dull, aching pang struck her as she realized that she now knew _exactly_ what she was missing.  What she had just thrown away.  Sighing, Quistis turned and let her gaze fall on the small yellow plushy resting on the pillow next to her.  She shivered.  
  
 _Cold,_ she thought quietly.  _It's so cold in here._   She pulled the blankets more tightly around herself, but nothing seemed to help.  Somewhere, Quistis realized vacantly that the chill she was feeling was coming from inside of herself; it was still late summer in Balamb and it would be quite some time before the impending autumn weather brought about a true bite to the air.  Still - as she thought about what she had done, and what - or, more exactly, _who_ she was missing - the chill seemed to magnify tenfold.  
  
"Zell," she breathed into the room, surprised when her breath didn't crystallize in the air before her.  His name did cause a fission of awareness that sparked in her chest and slowly spread outwards towards the rest of her body; it was painful, yes, but it also drove away the raw chill that was threatening to consume her.  Desperate for anything that would provide relief from the numbness that she was feeling, Quistis tried once again.  "Zell," she repeated, this time closing her eyes.  Another gentle wave of warmth washed over her; with their argument still fresh in her mind, however, it was coupled with hurt, and replacing numbness with pain wasn't much better.  Her heart ached.  Quistis shifted uncomfortably, twisting her head into the pillows in frustration. 

_ Think about something good, _ she told herself sternly.  _Just try to forget about tonight._

Unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind when she thought about _"something good"_ was the kiss she had shared on the beach with Zell.  He'd been so warm, so close, and he'd made her feel - scared, yes, but somehow alive, then.  She remembered the insistent way he'd pressed his lips against hers, and her partial frustration at his refusal to do more despite her fears, all part of his attempt to tell her that he felt something for her, something important - 

_ Stop it,  _ Quistis repeated to herself, her face warmed from its mild blush.  She drew herself out of the memory abruptly, blinking a few times into the darkness before shutting her eyes once more.  _Think of something else good,_ she repeated like a mantra.  _Something that doesn't have to do with Zell._

Unfortunately, trying to avoid thoughts of Zell only made them that much more prominent and accessible in the solitary darkness of her room.  Zell, scowling at her for their latest assignment.  Zell, back-flipping up the sidewalk of Balamb.  Zell, bungee-jumping from the roof of his house.  Zell accosting her in the doorway of his room, covered by little more than his own sweat.  She remembered precisely how a single drop of water had left a slow trail across his chest as it meandered its way downwards.  Now, she regretted curbing her impulse to trace its path with her fingers.  Would his skin be warm to the touch?  Quistis' breath caught.  _No,_ she realized.  It would _burn._

Just like her own fingers were burning, now, tracing across the bare skin of her arm, leaving a faint tingle - 

Hastily, Quistis tucked her hand back underneath her pillow, feeling herself flush in mild embarrassment.  The brush of her own fingers only brought forth the memory of Zell in that night-club, his touch racing lightly up and down her sides.  She felt an electric twinge, clutching somewhere near her heart, as she twitched a little - trying too hard not to think about the heat of the dance floor, the heat of Zell's body, just how _good_ it had felt to be in those arms.   And she realized, suddenly, with an aching clarity, this, _this_ is what she had just turned away. 

Why in Hyne's name hadn't she invited him in?  Quistis nearly groaned in frustration and flopped her head back against the pillow.  At least the mind-numbing coldness had disappeared, but now she felt almost stifled; her bed was suddenly too small, the sheets too constricting, and her heart beating much too quickly to even consider the possibility of sleep.  Restlessly, she kicked away the bedsheets and let out a half-sigh of relief as cool air touched her skin.  She shivered as she lifted her hand, meaning to brush away an errant strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes during her tossing and turning.  Her fingers caught on the hem of her nightshirt, and unbidden, the feeling of Zell pressed against her rose to her mind.   He'd been too close, but not close enough, she had thought then.  Absently, Quistis' fingers continued on their path upwards - detachedly, she noted that they were grasping the edges of her shirt and taking it with them.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what she was doing.  She knew she should be embarrassed.  She continued to pull her shirt away from her body. 

_ I'm tired of fighting, _ she thought to herself.  She pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside carelessly, letting it flutter to the floor.  Her sheets were still cool, and their touch against her warm skin was soft, inviting.  If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend the hardness of her standard-issue mattress was really firm flesh, pressed against her.  The thought was ridiculous, but Quistis kept her eyes closed anyway.  She was tired of feeling ridiculous, tired of protecting herself, tired of having to keep her mouth closed and her hands off just to protect her overgrown pride and pristine image.  Keeping her hands _off_ of Zell had started this fiasco of an evening in the first place.  Her own hands, as if freed by the admission, idly began to move; she slowly brushed a piece of hair away from her face, shivering as her fingers ran down the nape of her neck and across the soft curve of her breast.  She imagined herself to be running her hands over _his_ chest - she really should have taken that opportunity to touch him - and wondered how he'd react.  Would his mouth drop open slightly, the way he was prone to do when surprised?  Would his throat bob, his breath catching as she ran a questing finger over his nipple? 

A low gasp escaped her as her fingernails scraped lightly over the sensitive bud; would he feel the same things she was feeling?  The same tension, the same conflict, the same need for more?  She grew bolder, her tentative probes turning into firmer, languid strokes.  Quistis cupped her breast carefully, keeping her eyes shut and letting the sensations shooting outwards from her fingertips dictate her motions.  Except now, she imagined _him_ to be touching _her_ \- another soft sigh escaped her.  _There,_ that was much better - pretending it was _his_ fingers trailing over her collarbone, dipping into the valley between her breasts before climbing to one peak to gently squeeze -

Her soft gasp was swallowed by the darkness as her fingers continued their gentle exploration.  The initial turmoil the light, insistent caresses had stirred underneath her skin were fast fading; her body, now wakened, hungered for something more concrete than the flutter of the fingertips over sensitized skin.  Gradually, Quistis realized that Zell's touches probably wouldn't feel quite the same, no matter how exquisite she found the caresses to be.  It all rang somehow false; Quistis wasn't sure Zell would be able to touch her with the caution and delicacy with which she was fondling herself.  He was brusque and sloppy, inexperienced and overeager.  She imagined that he wouldn't be quite as patient, wouldn't allow his fingers to linger so long or lightly against her chilled skin.  The trembling contact she made was no longer providing any satisfaction; irritated, Quistis stroked a hand over her belly more firmly.  
  
 _No,_ she thought with a half-smile.  Zell wouldn't be quite so patient. He wouldn't have delicately removed the shirt; it probably would have been ripped, more by Zell's nerves and fumbling than by his actual haste.  She was almost picturing him now, crouching over her like he had on the beach, hands eager and body close.   He would be anxious to please her, made clumsy by nervousness and, if she dared think it, his own want - her eyes flew open in surprise at her body's echo of need that mirrored the wistful thoughts.  A sudden, insistent pressure flared to meet her as her hand ghosted lightly between her thighs.  She jerked her fingers away in surprise, then sucked in her breath as she realized they were slick.  Flustered and more than a little shocked at herself, Quistis forced her wandering hand to lay docilely at her side.  _Zell isn't here,_ she reminded herself.  

The dull ache she had prodded to life, the rolling heat in her abdomen - these were much sharper reminders than her own mental chastising; yet, at the same time, a siren call - insistent and demanding.  She twitched against the mattress convulsively; as much as she tried to scold herself, she realized there would be no rest, no peace until she relieved the pressure her overactive imagination and wary caresses had built.  After a token resistance, Quistis sighed and let her hand drift back towards the soft thatch of curls between her legs.  There was, of course, no guarantee that there would be peace even after she had satisfied herself, but for now, that didn't matter.  All that mattered was fulfilling this one guilty moment of make-believe: pretending, in the very back of her mind, that things were as they _should_ have been.  With Zell. 

Hesitantly, Quistis slipped a probing finger between folds, unconsciously catching her lower lip between her teeth.  It was too soon; she wasn't ready, but her eyes fell shut; how would Zell have known to wait for her to open to him?  No, she thought, he'd charge forward blindly, stopping only on her own cues and gentle directions.  But she didn't want it to be about _her,_ not tonight.  She plunged her hesitant finger in more firmly and ignored her own slight discomfort; it helped her believe that she wasn't truly alone.  Drawing out the moisture she found in herself, she carefully smoothed it over the exposed mound of her sex before beginning her exploration.  No - it wasn't the first time Quistis Trepe had sought release on her own; she wasn't the fabled ice maiden that the Trepies so loved to portray her as.  But it _was_ the first time that she had felt driven to touch herself - spurred on by more than just a clinical curiosity of what other people claimed sex could feel like.  Those attempts had been educational, if a bit disappointing in the end.  This, however - she hissed as her fingers brushed against the stiffening nub of her clitoris, shocked by the raw sensation - it had never been like _this_ before.  Part of it was her own desperation, she was well aware, part of it because she could almost see Zell leaning above her, his boyish face contorted in awed rapture as his inexperienced, yet somehow wonderfully fervent hands probed her body. 

Her eyes opened as sharp pulses of sensation spiked from her circling fingertip.  Her finger slowed as darkness intruded on her vision once again; this time, however, she was too flushed to feel embarrassed at her own actions, too aware of how empty and achingly hollow she felt despite the insistent motions of her fingers.  Again, sensation was fading into numbness; nothing seemed to bring relief.  Almost unconsciously, Quistis brought her unoccupied hand to her nipple once more; squeezing herself sharply, she let out a choked gasp detailing exactly what she was missing:  "Zell!"  
  
His name, once spoken, was a balm; the desperation she had felt roiling beneath her chest, mirrored in the jerking of her hips, calmed somewhat; _I can do this,_ Quistis told herself.  Soothing the frantic motions of her fingers, she gently stroked herself, keeping the touch to a soft minimum.  Her verbal cry had unnerved her a little; the thought that all of this, this warmth, this excitement - all of this honestly came from her desire for Zell?  Her fingers stilled.  Was that all it took?  Because if that really was the case, then Quistis was fairly sure she'd ruined things quite thoroughly.  If she hadn't been so stubborn, she could've turned down that date - or, better, told Rinoa the _truth_.  She could be with Zell right now, perhaps lying in a bed much like this with Zell curled tightly behind her, a living comma to her own exclamations.  He would be the one exploring her with his own fingers.  Her hips jerked despite herself as she felt a warm rush spread from her reddened cheeks all the way down her spine and into her belly.

Quistis bit her lip and closed her eyes again.  She may have completely blown her current best chance to have fabulously good sex (potentially twice, although her thoughts briefly dodged James before returning to Zell's shirtless chest).  Zell.  Well, she wouldn't be able to kiss those lips any time soon, or have those hands touch her body.  Nevertheless, Quistis recognized something important: namely, that she was almost scarily aroused.  She couldn't remember a time before in her life when she'd felt this sort of throbbing between her legs.  If she couldn't be having the real-life experience she'd just now realized she wanted - Quistis wetted her finger again, sliding it back to the tingling bundle of nerves that had set off her latest bout of dangerous introspection.  The first touch was almost like a jolt.  She'd never done this before for _pleasure_.

She began circling her finger on her clit slowly, almost experimentally.  The warm feeling began to seep upwards from her loins was spreading with an almost frightening speed; her nipples tightened in response, and Quistis bit back a low, guttural noise that she was was shocked to discover she could even make.  She bent her legs and spread them wider, unconsciously shifting to allow her questing hand better access.  A sweet, heady confusion was stealing over her senses; Quistis willingly threw herself into it, allowing a finger to to slip inside of herself even as her thumb continued its demanding strokes.  There was no discomfort now, only a slick, warm sensation as she deftly curled her index finger, gasping at the sensations that sent white sparks shooting across her closed eyelids.  She moved her hand faster, clumsy at first but then catching a rhythm almost accidentally - yes, _there_ \- and felt the heat through her thighs begin to swell as thumb and finger worked simultaneously.  

Her heart beat loudly against her ears; the pulses shooting from the apex of her thighs matched the frenzied beat.  A low moan filled the air - her own; she squeezed her eyes even more tightly and almost, _almost_ could hear his answer.  She flushed, twisting, her hair matting against her neck as her body grew damp with sweat and unfulfilled desire.  It was almost - close, but - 

Not enough.  Still not enough.  Quistis scrunched her eyes tight, trying to find - trying to reach - _something._   Her thumb continued to swirl the heated button of her clit; it almost ached with her need.  She couldn't quite believe the stabs of desire flooding her body.  What _was_ this?  Her entire body was warm, shuddering, and her fingers were slick.

She twitched, arching her hips slightly off of the bed, but it still wasn't enough; quickly, one finger became two.  Simple, rudimentary thrusts had turned into a hungry, desperate exploration; accidentally, Quistis allowed her fingers to hook upwards and was wholly unprepared for what happened.  Her hoarse moan shattered the silence of the room as body drew taut; somehow, her other hand had left the attentions to her breasts and joined its companion between her thighs.  Any thoughts of propriety, image or self control were rendered irrelevant; suddenly, Quistis needed more, and she needed it _now._   

Her hands moved quickly, orchestrating a symphony that only she could hear.  Her legs shook uncontrollably, back arching as she dove between the soft folds of her sex seeking a release that just wouldn't come.  " _Please,_ " she wept against her pillow, not even sure what she was asking for.  She thought of him, pressed against her, of sweat and piercing blue eyes and his body, backlit by starlight.  Her hand pumped faster into herself; the shadows were lengthening, consuming everything.  He was blotting out the world around them, chasing away her questions and insecurities; she was hollowed, emptied, and he was filling up the gaps she had left behind.  _Do you feel it?_ he whispered against her ear.  She wanted to tell him _yes,_ but the only sound that escaped her lips was a wordless cry.  There was no space, no room left to give inside of herself, and still he was filling her with everything that was _Zell._   She could no longer see the starlight, but it didn't matter anymore.  He leaned in and she swore she felt the warm puff of his breath as he stroked her once more.  _Do you?_   he asked again.  The stars, they had never been in the sky at all; they were in her.  With another thrust, he released them, and Quistis screamed.  
  
She came back to her senses slowly, her body quivering uncontrollably with the aftershocks.  Quistis didn't think she could move if she tried.  She was soaked; the mattress was wet with her sweat and the musky scent of her own arousal.  And all too sharply, she realized she was alone.  She drew her hands out of her body carefully - even those small motions forced her to pause and bite her lip to suppress the involuntary groan rising from her throat - and wondered what, exactly, had just happened.  It certainly hadn't been like that before, not even when she was trying.  She didn't feel she'd be able to think clearly for the next hour, let alone walk.  Her sweat-tangled hair was clumping against her neck uncomfortably, and with a tired sigh Quistis reached upwards to push it out of the way.   
  
She froze as her fingers neared her face; they glistened in the weak light that was filtering into the room, still coated with the evidence of her own release.  The smell was rich and sharp; too sharp, Quistis realized as her hand dropped heavily by her face, her original task forgotten.  There was no scent of sex, of mutual passion or shared bodies.  The room stank of Quistis Trepe, and Quistis Trepe alone.  
  
Suddenly disgusted, she buried her hand beneath the sheets, hastily wiping off the traces as a depressing sense of confusion filled her.  Desperate for answers - distraction - anything, she turned her gaze away from the offending scene.  The two beady glass eyes that met her caused her to recoil instantly as her heart hammered against her ribcage; Bobo stared at her with a lost, forlorn expression.  After recovering from her shock, Quistis let out a deep sigh.  
  
"I know the feeling," she whispered to the small toy, although it was a lie: she really wasn't sure  _what_ she was feeling.  She reached out and flipped back a lock of the plushy's hair, smiling a crooked smile as it fell right back into place.  Then she pulled it to herself, burying her nose into the stuffed toy with a melancholy sigh.


	16. In Which A Lot Of People Are Surprised By The Obvious

Irvine stared at Squall's office with a combination of nerves and determination wrestling around in his stomach. This marked the second time this month that he'd been in Squall's office at an absurdly early hour - a habit Irvine planned to break, ASAP. He didn't like getting out of bed for any reason, and he _especially_ didn't appreciate being summoned to the Commander's office at oh-six-thirty when there was a naked Sefie in the bed in question. It had been Selphie, in all honesty, who had thought getting out of bed was a good idea; Irvine had been about ready to throw a boot at his intercom and collapse back into his pillow. Selphie, however, had sleepily suggested that Irvine meet up with Squall to try and cheer him up, as part of their new 'Couples' mission. At that hour of the morning Irvine didn't have the necessary mental faculties required to say 'no' to any plan Selphie thought up, and so he'd gotten out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom.

He'd become nervous as his slow-moving brain finally kicked in and reminded him that it wasn't every day someone got summoned to Squall's office at _Butt-Crack of Dawn-o'-clock._ Or _Butt-Crack of Dawn-hundred hours_ , if you wanted to be SeeD-specific with it.

Squall's door was cracked open, and Irvine could hear someone moving around inside, doing - something. Squall was certainly aware of his presence, for he'd snapped "Don't come in yet!" as soon as Irvine had passed the secretary's desk. There was a rustling noise, a sharp ping, and then the muffled sound of cursing as something heavy fell to the ground.

"What do you have in there, a Torama?" Irvine stopped mid-stride. "You didn't tell me to bring my gun."

"Shut up," Squall ground out, and Irvine heard a chorus of sound as a bunch of small somethings hit the floor.

Irvine tentatively approached the door, not yet willing to risk his Commander's wrath if the cause of the curious noises was a scantily-clad Rinoa. Or - Irvine winced - a scantily-clad Squall, for that matter. Naked Rinoa would've at least been worth a moderately-heavy beating, Irvine decided, but the amount time he'd have to spend with GFs equipped to remove the mental image of Naked Squall from his head was definitely not worth the risk. "What the hell are you doing in there, anyway?"

There was a long pause. "Trying to make coffee?" Squall offered finally. Something else large and heavy fell to the floor with an odd sense of finality. Even through the door, without seeing his Commander's face, Irvine could tell he was lying. The loud, angsty sigh - which Irvine heard clearly where he was standing - confirmed it.

Irvine thought. There was a small chance that Squall was in danger - or surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. Maybe Squall was surrounded by dangerously beautiful women. Either way, standing out in the secretary's lobby wasn't going to do much of anything. "I'm comin' in," Irvine said unnecessarily, and pushed the door open.

"Damn it!" Squall seethed, but Irvine barely heard as he glanced around the office. One lonely duffel bag sat in the corner of the office, vomiting what appeared to be Squall's entire collection of plain white T-shirts onto the floor where it had toppled. The chairs, which usually sat in a strict row in front of Squall's desk, ready to greet the Commander's latest visitors (or victims), had been pushed close together to form what Irvine could only assume - using the stiffly starched sheet and standard-issue pillow as evidence - was a bed. Squall's bed. _Oh._ The pieces started to fall into place.

The bottom drawer of the towering file cabinet in the corner had been left hastily ajar, and Irvine could see the edges of a soft-looking blanket and one tatty paw from something looking distinctly like a plushy lion. Rinoa had gotten Squall that lion on one of her trips to Deling City, Irvine remembered, mainly because the fight they'd had over whether it was appropriate for Balamb Garden's Commander to keep a stuffed animal on his desk had been _epic._ The lion looked suspiciously... _used,_ Irvine noted with a smirk. The smirk grew wider as he noted further that it looked as if it had been stuffed hastily into the file cabinet only moments ago.

He turned to Squall, whose previously angry expression had been professionally replaced with the stoic Commander facade they all knew so well these days. Squall looked up at him coolly, raising one eyebrow in an obvious challenge, as if daring Irvine to make a comment. He raised his coffee mug to his lips and deliberately took a slow sip. It was the coffee mug that did it. Squall was drinking coffee out of that red **Who's Your Daddy?!** mug that Rinoa had bought for him and left on his desk in the sparkly gift box reading _"from Laguna, with love."_ Squall hadn't thought the joke was funny. In fact, Squall had thrown the mug across the room. He'd been even less pleasantly surprised to find that Rinoa, predicting his reaction in that uncanny way she had, had already cast a powerful Protect spell on the mug. Irvine had never seen Squall touch the thing, let alone drink out of it. Hell, he wasn't even sure Squall drank coffee.

Irvine burst out laughing.

Squall's face erupted in a dark glower. He slammed the mug down onto the desk and glowered at it for a while when the angry glare didn't stop Irvine's hysterical laughter. He then tried glowering at the desk, although the glare softened somewhat as his gaze fell on the troll dolls Rinoa had made for him. He'd just lined them all up in a row this morning (the "Seifer" doll's head had been reattached with a liberal use of duct tape, although it had also been reassigned to the far corner of Squall's desk, where it was currently holding down a stack of papers - the most useful thing Seifer had ever done for Squall), taking extra precautions to ensure that "Rinoa" was a fraction of an inch closer to the "Squall" doll than it was to "Zell," who was on her other side. He'd even fluffed out their hair. The glare faded into an empty sigh.

Irvine finally stopped laughing. "Sorry, man," he said, adding in what he thought was an undertone, "Dude, you've got it worse than me." Squall's forehead spasmed a little, and Irvine winced. "So," he said quickly, "you care to tell me why I've been dragged out of my comfortable bed to come, uh, sit in yours?" He carefully pulled one of the chairs away from Squall's little arrangement, setting it back into its usual spot in front of the desk and making himself comfortable. As an added afterthought, Irvine took the pillow.

Squall's stony face gave another small twitch. The Commander took a deep, calming breath, and folded his hands around the tell-tale red mug. "You're here," he said slowly, "because I believe we have a problem."

"You're telling me," Irvine said with a grand gesture that took in everything from the lion plushy to the fact that everything Squall owned could be packed into two duffel bags labeled _white_ or _black._ "Can I have some coffee, man?"

Squall jerked his head towards the incriminating file cabinet; on top of it sat a distinctly non-regulation coffee-pot, happily bubbling. Irvine selected a white mug which read **SeeDs do it 24-7** in magic marker - another Rinoa gag - and filled it to the top. Squall waited patiently as he stirred in some cream and returned to his chair.

"I don't believe you've told me everything about this... party," Squall offered slowly and carefully. "Apparently I was... am... not aware of all the... _details._ "

 _Hoo, boy._ Irvine stalled by taking a sip of Squall's coffee, which was patently horrible. This stupid party - the one he'd made up to save his own ass and inadvertently had caused him more grief than Jumbo Cactaur on a bad hair day - this damn thing had gotten Squall kicked out of his room? "So like... what do you want to know?" Irvine asked, proudly keeping his voice to a minimum waver.

Squall clenched the red mug tightly, letting go only when he heard a creaking whimper of protest from the warm ceramic. What he really wanted to know was why Rinoa was so _impossible,_ but every last remaining shred of his dignity rose up into his throat at the thought of asking the infamous Galbadian Cowboy for advice. "Please explain to me the purpose of this party, and how in the world it relates to Seifer," he said finally. "Rin- I've been informed," he hastily covered the cracking of his voice, "that this party may or may not be a celebration for Seifer. Or Seifer's birthday. Or a celebration that we've captured Seifer." He let a falsely pleasant lilt fall into his voice. "I'm confused, Irvine. Please enlighten me."

Irvine blinked. Well, he'd known this day would come - the only question had been whether Squall or Selphie caught him out first. Irvine realized ruefully that for as much as he'd been expecting the question, it was rather stupid to have not come up with a cover story. Then again, he'd been rather preoccupied lately, what with Quistis and Zell's haphazard courtship...

Irvine glanced up. Squall was looking at his troll dolls, a moony smile on his face - or, Irvine realized, one troll in particular. It looked as if Squall had combed "Rinoa's" hair especially well that day; he'd even styled it into a little poofy ponytail. Using a blue rubber band that matched the troll's shirt. Rinoa might've found it cute, but Irvine only found it creepy. In fact, he found everything about this a little creepy, especially the fact that his ass was currently sitting on something the Commander had spent the night on - could have potentially drooled on. He realized, quite abruptly, that he was a little sick of all this. In the back of his mind, he thought Selphie would be proud of what he was about to do - that is, if she were awake. He imagined the bright yellow troll which bore her name giving him a cheerful, perky salute.

"No, Squall, you're right," Irvine said confidently, settling back in his chair. "The party doesn't have much to do with Seifer at all."

Squall jerked his gaze away from the Rinoa troll and fastened it on Irvine. The look was one-half surprise and one-half _you had better not be fucking with me, cowboy._

"Look at you," Irvine said. "Look at us. You're sleeping in your damn office and walkin' around all angry and snapping at everyone. Rinoa's hell-bent on fixing everybody else's lives so she don't have to think about her own. Even Zell an' Quistis, they're either arguin' or -" Irvine bit his tongue quickly. _Making out_ wasn't really the term he wanted to surprise Squall with this early in the morning. "Either arguin' or ignorin' each other," Irvine finished, trying to regain his composure; his country drawl tended to come out at periods of high emotion, effectively ruining whatever point he was trying to make at the time. "The party's really to fix all that," he amended. "Sefie an' I are tired of all of you guys acting like a bunch of loony Moombas."

Squall blinked. To Irvine's surprise, he didn't deny or contradict anything that had just been said. Instead, the Commander merely replied, "So how does Seifer fit in?"

"I guess that's up to you guys," Irvine said, shrugging. "Sefie an' I are more than happy to welcome him back to Garden, no questions asked. But it don't look like that's what y'all are thinking." Damn it, he really needed to stop getting so nervous when speaking. People thought the Galbadian drawl was "cute," not serious. He took a sip of coffee and tried to focus on something calming. _Selphie._ The worried look on Selphie's face when she'd thought about Zell and Quistis. That only took his mind back to naked Selphie in his bed, however, which wasn't exactly the most calming thought.

"We didn't mean to stir things up," Irvine added, hoping to make Squall feel a little bit guilty. "But man, you've been a real ass lately."

Squall blinked. Irvine blinked. He certainly hadn't meant to say that. He hurried to cover his _own_ ass before Squall's rage broke through the Protect spell on that coffee mug. "What I mean by that is, like... you and Rin... I bet it's hard bein' in love, somebody like you." The stony silence continued, so Irvine continued speaking as well to nervously fill it. "I don't think you guys quite realize that when you're fightin', it gets shitty for the rest of us, too. Not just 'cause we're your friends, either. You're the Commander, and when you're all pissed off, it hits SeeD in a pretty bad way, man."

"Are you saying..." Squall's voice was still fairly even; only the tic in his forehead and his death-grip on the coffee mug gave away any form of emotion. "Are you implying that the reason all these missions have been... sub-par... is because I'm fighting with my girlfriend?"

Well, Squall had walked right into it. It was the perfect way to get out of this mess, and there really was only one sensible answer to that question. "Yeah," Irvine said.

Squall stared at the desk. He stared into the coffee cup. He glanced up at the troll dolls. They were all smiling at him (except "Seifer," who was gagged by the duct tape), and it reminded Squall of the picture Rinoa had kept in their room of the Orphanage Gang - he'd subconsciously lined all the trolls up in the same order, and, he realized belatedly, the same poses. Maybe that meant something.

"Anyway," he said calmly, re-folding his hands around his red coffee mug as if he hadn't just had a great internal revelation. "The reason I ask about the party is that today is the day we will be bringing Seifer in."

"Really?" Irvine grinned. "Sweet! All the stuff for the party's already here, and Sefie's been itchin' to get her cute little hands on it."

"I hope she's itching to bring him in herself," Squall replied. "I'm sending the two of you."

Irvine grinned again, instinctively - he loved going on missions with Selphie, especially exciting ones like this: Sef got all riled up, and he could just sit back and watch her fire away with her Limit Break and reap the, uh, _benefits_ after the mission. But the image of the Selphie troll doll wagging its finger at him in his head stopped him. "You can't do that, man," he said with only a twinge of disappointment. "That's Zell and Quisty's mission."

Squall closed his eyes. "Zell and Quistis are unable to handle the mission," he said patiently.

"We're same rank as them," Irvine pointed out. "And they've both been on more missions than us. Why would you think we'd be able to do better?"

Squall took a deep breath and remembered what had happened the last time he'd listened to Irvine on this particular matter. "You and Selphie are a proven team. You've been able to work together in the past. Zell and Quistis have proven the opposite."

Irvine winced. _Well,_ he thought, _here goes nothin'. Time to get Selphie's "Couple Make-Up" mission rolling._ "Well, they sure ain't gonna learn if you don't give them the chance," he urged. "Last time that cadet they brought pretty much screwed them over - I heard he went out with only the Chocobo junctioned, no higher GFs or anything. You can't blame 'em for that, can you?" _Don't, don't, don't,_ he chanted to himself silently.

"I gave them the chance last time," Squall replied bluntly. "There is no third chance."

"Third time's the charm," Irvine answered with a grin. "C'mon, man. You know Zell and Quistis get along well in real life." _You just don't know HOW well._ "If they're not gettin' along on a mission, there's gotta be some other reason for it. So like... they need to spend MORE time together, not LESS."

Squall looked down into his coffee mug, contemplating the lukewarm liquid and whether he could drown himself in it. What Irvine was saying did make a small amount of sense. Quistis and Zell had never really fought when the entire Gang was hanging out; this inability to get the mission done was something new. "I hate you," Squall said finally, the tense Commander voice giving way to his normal, dry, sarcastic tone. "I think you're right." Irvine smirked.

**.x.x.x.**

Zell grimaced as he finished sewing together the last busted stitch on his corn-filled punching bag. It was the third time he'd broken it apart; he was starting to get the hang of this leather sewing stuff. He was also starting to lose feeling in the tips of his fingers where he'd punctured them one too many times with the needle, but hey, who was counting? Slinging the punching bag back up onto its ceiling hook, he flipped on his stereo and went in for another round with the sack. He'd only gotten three Squinties, two Jameses and half a Trepie into his workout before he was interrupted by the sound - or rather lack of sound - coming from his boom box. Whirling around, he opened his mouth to blast whoever it was who had just barged into his personal space - and shut it again just as quickly.

Selphie was peering at his boom box with a puzzled look. She glanced over her shoulder, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Hey, you had it set to _SeeDs Don't Cry_ on repeat play," she observed, flipping the CD out and twirling it around on a forefinger. "Isn't it a little too early to be listening to The Curaga?" Her thoughtful frown quickly morphed into a look of shock. "Wait, you're not going through another one of _those_ phases, are you? I mean I know you have that tattoo already and well _I_ think it looks good, but I don't know if I'm going to be able to convince everybody else that it's just a temporary thing if you start wearing eyeliner and nail polish, too..."

Zell clapped a hand to the side of his head to cover his tattoo - damn it, it wasn't girly, no matter what Selphie thought about the "twisty vines and flowers" - and winced. "I'm not goin' through a _phase,_ alright? I'm just a little... uh, stressed out right now," he ground out. Selphie shrugged innocently, and he growled and stomped over, snatching his CD out of her hands and carelessly tossing it onto the rest of his stash. "What're you doin' here anyway? Girls aren't s'posed to be in the boys dorms this early," he grumbled.

"Well, I was in Irvy's room, so I thought I'd stop by and pass on a message for you."

Zell remained obstinately silent. It was too early in the morning to deal with Selphie's perkiness. All he really wanted to do right now was bust his punching bag up. Again.

"Squall wants to see you in his office," Selphie said nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly. A perky Selphie was something to be wary of. A _calm_ Selphie was something to be terrified of. He wondered whether he should start running and how far he'd manage to get. "I think it's about your suspension," she added, noting his tension.

All this was just about that suspension? Zell sagged - then stiffened. If Squall wanted to see him about that suspension, it meant he wanted to see Quistis about it too. And that meant he was going to end up seeing Quistis. "Huh," he said non-committally, striking out for casual and hoping he was at least near the mark.

It might be observed that Zell was about as good at studied indifference as Selphie was. On a high-sugar day. There was a beat of silence, and then Selphie exploded first.

"Tell me why you don't want to date the Library Girl!" Selphie blurted out.

"Nuh-uh," was Zell's immediate reply. Wide-eyed panic was setting in; he'd witnessed these kinds of "Sefsplosions" (as Irvine liked to call them) before. Granted, they usually occurred in Rinoa's presence and were directed at Quistis, but he'd seen the results enough times at breakfast to know the fallout would be messy. He started edging uneasily for the door. Something, however, stopped him before he could make good on his escape. A thought.

"Wait a sec," Zell said cautiously. "What's the Library Girl got to do with Quisty and me - I mean, uh, with our - with the suspension?" He didn't notice the way Selphie's face lit up at the mention of Quistis.

"Nothing! But..." A calculating gleam appeared in Selphie's eyes. "... I bet it has a lot to do with that CD you were listening to."

Zell stiffened. Irvine was a fast talker, but if anyone could get him to lose his cool it would be his girlfriend. A sudden flash of irritation passed through him; he'd thought this was supposed to be "guy stuff." That was sacred. Guys didn't talk to girls about their love lives anymore than girls bestowed guys with the mysteries of "that time of the month." Besides, it felt good to be able to direct his anger towards a definite source for once - one that wasn't himself, at least, or his poor punching bag. Reminding himself to not be too hasty - that was what always got him into trouble with Quistis after all - Zell deliberately reserved judgment on when, or how much, he was going to rearrange Irvine's face. Besides, a SeeD shouldn't decide anything before he had all the facts - a good SeeD would at least interrogate Selphie first.

 _Since when did you "interrogate" anybody?_ a small voice in the back of his head asked. _Since Quistis,_ a much more frank and immediate answer came. Zell winced. _Focus on the problem at hand,_ he instructed himself. _Don't let distractions... uh... distract you, or something like that._ He was sure he'd read that in the SeeD manual somewhere.

"How much did Irvine tell you?"

Selphie paused, her grin fading slightly. She looked suspicious - like she wanted to ask _Who are you, and where did you hide Zell's body?_ \- but after momentary consideration frowned and shrugged.

"What makes you think Irvy told me anything?" she asked defensively.

"Answerin' a question with a question. Y'know, basic diversionary tactics for interrogations," Zell replied. "C'mon, just spill and I promise I won't hurt him... too bad."

Selphie ignored him in favor of staring in open-mouthed shock.

"Yo?" Zell repeated impatiently, waving a hand in front of her face.

"...you sound like Quistis," Selphie managed to say in an awed voice, the surprise still clearly etched into her expression. It was quickly wiped away by a look of smug triumph. "See? Irvy didn't need to tell me _anything._ It's practically written all over your face - you like Quisty!"

Zell flushed beet red and grabbed the back of his neck. "That obvious, huh?" he sighed. He was never going to win any medals at this undercover stuff if he couldn't keep a secret from Selphie. Slowly it dawned on him that if _Selphie_ had figured it out, and now _Squall_ was calling him to his office... it felt like someone had just turned the fan up to industrial speed, and the shit hadn't even hit it yet. He swallowed.

Selphie, for her part, was breathing a quiet sigh of relief - she'd been right. Zell, making that face - his _"I'm a real SeeD and don't mess with me"_ face - was harder to read than even Irvy. Apparently Quistis was having a bigger effect on her friend than she'd guessed. She cheerfully determined that Zell was never going to find out just how good he was getting at lying, if just for Irvine's health. Who'd have thought the exuberant martial artist would ever get the hang of all that undercover stuff?

Zell's face was rapidly changing from red to white as his mind raced. Mostly in circles. Circles that were chasing each other with repetitive mantras of _Yes! I get to see Quisty!_ followed by _Shit! I have to see Quistis!_ to _Holy fuckin' white chocobos, Squall knows!_

"I - Quisty - we'll talk about this later, Sef," Zell managed to sputter before racing out of his room in a panic. He ignored her confused shout of "Hey!" as he left her behind and sprinted towards the elevators, his mind reeling. Stopping before them, he slammed his finger against the button repeatedly, causing one of the Garden custodians passing by to shoot him a frigid glare. In his state of slightly muddled, panicked paranoia, it felt like the entire population of Garden was whispering behind their hands and watching him sweat. Just how many people knew about him and Quisty after all? It even felt like the stone dolphin sculptures surrounding the waterway were glaring at him. _What have you been doing with Quistis Trepe?_ they all but trumpeted. Her name was echoing in his head, and this time in that weird- _bad_ rather than weird- _cool_ way. When the doors finally did roll open, he practically flung himself onto the lift in the attempt to escape from what he thought were the prying, accusatory eyes. And while it could be said that Zell was overreacting in much the same way it could be said that NORG needed to lose a little weight, he was right about one thing - the few students and faculty who were up and about at that early hour _were_ staring as he left towards the administrative offices. It wasn't so much that it was a particularly unusual sight to see Zell Dincht racing through the halls of Balamb Garden like Ifrit was on his heels; it was just strange that he wasn't heading towards the Cafeteria.

He would have made it into the safety of the elevator cabin unaccosted, too, were it not for the hand that slammed itself between the closing doors and forced them open. Zell groaned and rolled his eyes as he saw the owner of the offending arm. "This one's full," he grunted, cracking his knuckles to make his point.

"Get over yourself, Chickenshit. Even with an army of hot dogs behind you, you couldn't scare me," Xu replied, not even bothering to look up from her paperwork as she stepped in behind him. She did take the time to give him a once-over and quirk an eyebrow as the doors slid shut. "Coming to a summons on time for once?" She smirked. "There must be something in the water. Last I checked, the Commander's office wasn't a buffet table."

"I can be on time when I want!" Zell said defensively. Something about Xu always got his - and almost everyone elses' - hackles up.

Xu simply gave him a look which clearly spelled out her amusement. "So you never 'wanted' to be on time once during your entire SeeD candidacy? Funny. I distinctly remember you saying otherwise - you told me it was a _sleep disability._ " She chuckled, and it wasn't really a friendly laugh. "Not you, Zell. _Never_ you. I'll eat a Balamb Bounty Dincht Special with a straight face before I believe that." Her eyes narrowed as she smirked derisively. "I would ask what it is you've done this time that's got your ass in a sling, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to know."

Zell's fists clenched suddenly. It wasn't an unusual or even particularly cruel thing for Xu to say - heck, she was like that with everybody, and it wasn't as if what she was saying was untrue, at least up until that moment. But for some reason, it hit close to home. She wasn't necessarily making fun of him, though that _was_ a bonus in her book - she was just stating a simple fact, the way she saw him. The way _everyone_ saw him. A memory of Squall angrily waving his crumpled Instructor application form came to mind.

No - it was true. Most people thought he was a good front-line SeeD - skilled, enthusiastic, easy to throw into the fray of a battle. But thoughtful? Responsible? Capable enough to be a _mission leader,_ rather than a _team player?_ His thoughts trailed off to Quistis, his opposite in so many ways. She was practically a born leader, her whole attitude screaming _authority figure_ even at the tender age of fifteen. She had seen his potential. Heck, if he wanted to be honest about it, she was the one who had _waked_ his potential - the desire to be a Garden Instructor, to be something important for himself - and for Garden - not just to impress some girl.

She'd seen him at his worst, and looked beyond it and still encouraged him to try to become something more. Quistis. Not anyone else - not even himself.

And he'd thrown that all away. For what? A fit of jealousy and personal insecurity. How had she managed to believe in him, when he still found it hard to believe in himself? Maybe... Zell's brow furrowed. Maybe it was because she knew what it felt like too?

He tried to reconcile the image he had of Quistis - strong, competent, no-nonsense - with the idea of self doubt. It was hard: Quistis practically radiated confidence. But he thought of everything he'd learned - everything she'd shown him - during their week together. Her burning anger at being bested by Seifer, and the stupid mistakes her frustration had prompted. Her almost hesitant attempts to draw him into conversation during the dinner at Felicia's - when he'd admittedly been sulking. The look of irritation and - was it really panic? - as she tried to escape the club dance floor. The way she had flushed and pressed her fingertips to her lips after their initial kiss on the beach.

"Zell? Earth to Zell!" Xu was staring at him, and with a start Zell realized the elevator doors were being held open - and had been for some time. "Stop daydreaming about your T-board and move your ass," she snapped.

Zell walked out of the lift slowly, still feeling dazed. "Wasn't thinkin' about my T-board," he muttered, trailing off as he caught sight of Quistis' back. She stood before the closed doors of Squall's office, refusing to turn around at the sound of his arrival. Her arms were wrapped around herself and one finger was tapping on her sleeve. _Impatiently,_ he would have said before. Now, he recognized it as a nervous tic - one as telling as the good scrub he was currently giving the back of his own neck.

 _I love her,_ Zell realized suddenly. _I don't like-like her. I don't want her - well, okay, maybe I do want her - but I_ _ **love**_ _her._

The room seemed to shrink around him. He was finding it hard to breathe. No, it wasn't the room shrinking - it was his own feet carrying him forward against his will. He ignored the stares of Squall's freckled secretary and Xu, who were frozen mid-paper transaction and watching his approach with twin looks of shock.

Quistis felt him coming; he knew she did. Her finger slowed its incessant tapping, stilled finally, as her hands gripped the leather of her sleeves so tightly they creased.

He opened his mouth, no idea coming to mind of what he'd say to her, not after what he'd just learned himself. He actually was feeling kind of nauseous, and for once it had nothing to do with being summoned to Squall's office that early in the morning.

"Quistis," he managed to say. She flinched, and shame flooded him. _Why didn't we ever notice?_ She was a good observer; she'd realized Squall was in love with Rinoa before the Commander had even admitted to liking her. She noticed details about everyone she cared about - even her students. Others called it being anal-retentive. He'd never even considered that it might be because she - Ice Maiden, Card Queen, _Instructor_ Quistis Trepe - was _sensitive._ He suddenly wanted to throw his arms around her, to apologize, to tell her - what? That he loved her? That he was sorry for being a dick? His mind rudely interrupted his daydream with a good cold splash of reality - _she'll probably turn around, laugh and slap you,_ it sneered.

Zell was finding that he cared about as much for that inner voice as he did for Xu and Freckles' gawking. Ignoring them all, he stepped in close and lifted his hands. They hovered for a moment near her waist before he let out a sigh and placed them on her shoulders instead.

Quistis tensed under his grip and then suddenly, inexplicably, relaxed. She still hadn't turned around, but he could tell by the small, strangled noise of surprise Xu made - and Xu was _never_ surprised - that she had reacted. She wasn't shrugging his hands off yet - maybe that was a good sign.

Emboldened, he tightened his grip slightly, giving Quistis' shoulders a gentle squeeze. _I'm sorry,_ he tried to say. _I love you._ Zell knew he was pretty good with his hands, but he still felt clumsy and ashamed, trying to heal with a touch that was normally used to destroy things. To his surprise, Quistis relaxed even more and tilted slightly backwards - almost touching him. He allowed himself a brief moment of hope.

Maybe - maybe it wasn't too late to save what they had, whatever it was. Even if it wasn't a relationship - Zell's eyes shut involuntarily at the sudden pang that thought brought about - he loved her. And he couldn't sacrifice their newfound friendship just because of some raging hormones. This was important. _Quistis_ was important.

The moment seemed to stretch, and all of a sudden Quistis' shoulders bunched under his hands. Zell's eyes flew open - when had they closed? - and he found himself staring at his very disgruntled-looking Commander. Squall, who had almost rammed face-first into Quistis as he stuck his head outside of his office.

"Sasha, I told you to call them ten minutes ago! At least Quistis should be -" He stopped abruptly as he came face-to-face with the two, a look of bafflement on his face.

Panicking, Zell flexed his fingers and then gave Quistis a little shove forward, releasing her. "Uh, yeah," he mumbled, flushing brightly and rubbing his neck - it was probably raw by now. "I was, uh, just tryin' to stop Quistis from bargin' in on you without me," he mumbled. "Sorry for makin' you wait."

Squall's look of bemusement was slowly fading into incredulity. "Zell," he said uncertainly. "You're on time."

Zell grit his teeth and ignored Xu's pointed cough. "Yeah? So?" he grumbled, stalking past Quistis and an unresisting Squall and sullenly making his way towards one of the waiting chairs inside.

Squall watched the fuming blonde with furrowed brows. Then he turned back to Quistis, one eyebrow raised.

"Actually he was trying to get me to knock," Quistis said smoothly. "I was just feeling a little... intimidated."

The click of Xu's jaw dropping was as loud as a gunshot in the suddenly silent room.

Squall paused, staring now at Quistis. "You? Intimidated?" he asked.

Quistis cleared her throat and gave Squall a flat stare. "Well, you have to admit that every time I've been called here for the past week it's ended badly."

Squall, for some unfathomable reason, suddenly flushed and dropped his head. "Sorry," he mumbled, waving her into the office. "I know I've been a little... harsh, lately." It sounded like he was grinding sand between his teeth, but the words came out nonetheless.

Xu let out another choked sound of disbelief and nearly fainted. Quistis ignored everyone and strode into the office, her head held high and making no attempt to deny Squall's unexpected assertion. The door slammed shut behind her.

"... oh my," the freckled secretary finally said after a few moments of shocked silence.

"... if by that you mean _'fuck my pale ass and call me a shumi,'_ then yes," Xu agreed, still staring at the door with wide eyes. "I've heard the rumours the Trepie network was circulating, but I never thought - I mean - with _Zell?_ "

Sasha's look of surprise was slowly transforming into one of smug satisfaction. "I told you something was up between those two. Did you see her face when he grabbed her?" She let out an utterly girlish squeal of delight that would have had Quistis cringing, had she heard it.

Xu nodded in agreement. "I could've _killed_ Squall for opening that door," she complained. Then she looked down at the freckled secretary and rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine. Alright, you win." She paused thoughtfully. "Double or nothing says they'll be doing the horizontal mamba before the day is over."

Sasha only smirked as she held out her palm expectantly. "I don't take losing bets," she replied, pocketing the gil Xu had deposited into her waiting hand.


	17. In Which Zell Stands Up For Himself

Quistis kept her gaze centered forward as she made her way towards Squall's newly-repaired desk. That it had all four legs and no apparent holes or decorative patches of duct tape was a vast improvement over her last visit, but she wasn't quite ready to take it as a sign of Squall's charitable mood. The chairs were still uncomfortable as ever; more problematic was the fact that Zell was standing directly behind one of them, waiting for her to approach. She wasn't certain she was ready to look him in the eye just yet, not after what had happened last night - and outside of the office just moments ago.

Quistis hesitated - should she just seat herself quietly and pretend nothing had occurred between them? Zell certainly _seemed_ tense to her observant eye, though she had to admit being pegged as a slacker by your commanding officer first thing in the morning would have put her in a snit, too. He was gripping the back of the chair stiffly, though he was hiding any other visible sign of his discomfort admirably. If anything, he looked the image of a model SeeD, patiently waiting for orders. She squinted. Maybe she _had_ misread him. Squall's footsteps sounded behind them and Quistis knew if they didn't seat themselves soon, she'd be facing more questions than she was willing to answer that early in the morning. A small, wicked part of her insisted that she confront Zell with her lips to find out just what exactly he had meant by touching her just then, commanding officers be damned. The more sensible part of her was already dropping in a dead faint at the very idea. Fortunately, Zell saved her - _once again_ \- from facing the issue.

"Here," he said, gesturing towards the chair he was holding with a semi-goofy smile. His expression didn't carry its usual cheerfulness, but it was enough to snap Quistis out of her indecisive trance. She looked down at the proffered chair - and directed a bemused stare at his peace offering.

"Is that... a pillow?" she asked, eyeing the plastic seat.

"Yeah. There's only one, so I figure better your ass than mine," Zell joked. Then his face turned bright red. "Uh, I mean, 'cause you're a girl..." Quistis' eyes narrowed and Zell rapidly continued. "... yeah, and my butt doesn't need all that much cushionin' anyway..." Quistis' expression was unreadable. "Not that I'm sayin' your butt is boney! It ain't _that_ small..." he backpedalled hastily. Quistis' lips thinned. Somewhere off to the side he heard Squall sigh and realized he'd just made one of _those_ mistakes - what was it Irvine was always saying about girls? _When in doubt, don't give 'em any ideas._ "See, what I meant was that these chairs are really hard and I just thought it might be, y'know, uhh... softer," he trailed off. "On your butt." More incredulous silence followed. "I'm just gonna shut up now," he added lamely as a conclusion.

Quistis struggled to keep the severe expression on her face. Though it had taken an almost superhuman effort, she'd managed to avoid staring at Zell's posterior after he'd dropped that comment about the amount of _cushioning_ on it. After a week of hanging around Zell, it would take more than one of his usual social guffaws to truly bother her. _Besides,_ she thought with a small internal smirk. _He didn't seem to mind the state of my butt all that much the last time he'd grabbed it._ Realizing that thinking about grabbing Zell's butt - in Squall's office, no less - would debatably lead to nothing productive, Quistis chose instead to settle herself as comfortably as she could on the proferred chair. She eyed Zell discreetly and hid another smirk as he sat down and squirmed a little. Hopefully _she_ wasn't the only one thinking about butt-grabbing this early in the morning, either.

Squall stared at them both with suspicion before seating himself at the desk. Mostly he was assessing whether or not Quistis was about to further damage his office - it was newly-repaired, and he wasn't going to be taking any more chances with ruining it, not after having spent one uncomfortable night there already. "Are you two done yet?" he asked shortly.

"Sir!" Zell replied sharply, straightening and resting his hands palm-down on his kneecaps - which weren't, for once, bouncing. Quistis sagged into the stiff-backed chair with as much indolent disregard as she could muster and waved a dismissive hand through the air. They both waited for him to speak with an air of expectation.

Quistis looked almost bored; impatient, even, rather than nervous. Squall frowned to himself. She must have realized by now that he'd called them to discuss their failed missions and subsequent suspension; he was surprised she hadn't yet demanded the restitution of her Instructor's license. His brow furrowed. Zell, on the other hand, was unnaturally still. He was - Squall blinked and surreptitiously rubbed at his eyes to be sure - studiously waiting to hear why he'd been summoned. Squall blinked again and began to wonder, vaguely, what was going on with his two friends. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was sure he heard Irvine laughing at him. Blaming it on lack of food and the early hour, he squashed his doubts and leaned forward.

"It's come to my attention that I've been less than genial to my subordinates for the past few days."

Quistis' audible snort hung in the air between them. She had much too much self-control to ever be caught giving Squall a direct eyeroll when he was in one of his "Commander" moods, but her expression plainly spelled out how unimpressed she was by the announcement.

Zell had yet to react, other than to blink.

"I've given some thought to the matter," Squall continued, frowning as he catalogued more changes to their usual pattern behaviour. He was beginning to suspect that whatever fight those two had gotten into was bigger than Irvine was letting on. "I've decided to give your team one last chance."

Quistis flicked a speck of imaginary lint off of her skirt. It was only a small motion, but for Quistis Trepe it was the practical equivalent of flipping him the bird. Squall's hands clasped together and tightened. They _were_ friends, but she was certainly pushing the boundaries of insubordination. He expected more from her and opened his mouth to tell her as much - and the baleful glare of the Irvine troll caught his eye. Squall found himself hesitating. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe she'd just forgotten to iron her skirt that morning - she _was_ looking a bit rumpled, to be honest. He felt another stab of guilt. Who was he to read into Qustis' actions when he couldn't even handle his own girlfriend? He clamped his jaw shut and waited for her to react to his command.

What Squall failed to realize was that his skill at reading his friends' moods had not actually atrophied all that much. Quistis had, even before being summoned to the office, decided that she'd taken enough abuse from the string of Balamb fiascos and Squall's reaction to them, and was perfectly content to let the _Commander_ deal with the problem on his own. She relaxed into her chair and studied him coolly; if he was expecting her to leap for the mission offer like a starving dog after a dangling bone, he had another thought coming. The silence would have stretched indefinitely, had Zell not taken it upon himself to speak up in her place.

"You're gonna give us one last chance to catch- uh, _apprehend_ Seifer, yeah?" he asked.

Squall stared. Quistis yawned. Zell resisted the urge to fidget and scratch the itch on the lefthand side of his nose that was _killing_ him.

"... Quistis, are you feeling alright?" Squall finally asked, shaking his head to clear it. _That's the last time I make my own coffee,_ he determined.

"Never better, thanks for asking," she replied without a drop of sincerity.

Well. This latent hostility wasn't a surprise; everyone knew Quistis hid a biting sense of humour behind her cool exterior. She _was_ friends with Xu, after all. Her apparent lack of self-control was something of a shock, however. Quistis didn't snap at her superior officers. Silently find ways to increase his paperwork when angered, perhaps, but open confrontation was definitely not her preferred weapon of choice.

Strange though as her behaviour was, Squall was almost relieved to see Quistis relaxing enough to express her irritation, even if it was at his expense. Rinoa was always telling him that it was better to let his frustration out in small doses than to keep it bottled up for one destructive outburst later on. An emotional explosion that could result in the loss of jobs, lives or - as was in his particular case - office furniture. It wasn't easy being a type-A personality.

Squall let a small smile pass over his face as he eyed the Rinoa troll on his desk. News that the great and terrible Quistis Trepe was finally loosening up would probably make Rinoa happy. Then he winced as he realized that he most likely wouldn't be the one to deliver the message to his girlfriend. Resisting the urge to reach for his stuffed lion, Squall struggled to regain his game face and stared Quistis down. Whether or not Quistis was learning to relax was not the issue at hand. The issue was that she definitely should _not_ have been choosing to unwind in front of her Commanding Officer - particularly since he was operating on less than three hours of solid sleep. He steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation.

"I'll be honest. I'm as sick of this mission as you two are. But I'm hoping this will be the last time I have to send you out to deal with it."

"Why us?" Quistis finally said, leaning forward. "You've made it abundantly clear what you think about our performance." She glared at Squall with muted hostility. "Was it Irvine, Selphie or Rinoa who put you up to this?"

Squall flinched - he couldn't help it then, she was using her most stern Instructor voice, the one she hadn't pulled on him since he'd become Commander - _and_ she'd mentioned Rinoa in the same breath. "What makes you think that?" he answered somewhat defensively. "I'll admit there's been some tension between us lately. Consider this mission a peace offering." He lifted the folder that was resting on his desk and held it out towards her.

"A peace offering? _You,_ coming up with an idea like that on your own? Squall, _please._ " Here Quistis did actually roll her eyes before crossing her arms in exasperation. "Even if you expected us to buy an argument that thin, what makes you think taking on a repugnant mission like this one - _again_ \- would be an appropriate restitution? How about lifting our suspension, or returning my license instead? I suppose that didn't cross your mind at all, did it?"

Squall's expression turned dark. His eyes were burning with a familiar determination that boded ill for Quistis if she kept up her verbal assault. Zell watched the tension crackle between the two nervously, feeling the sweat bead on his forehead. Shit like this was so definitely not covered in the SeeD manual.

"So it's back down to your license again, is it?" Squall finally replied.

Quistis' pale face flooded with colour. "You know, I don't give a flying fuck about my license right now!" she spat. "Why don't you take that mission brief and shove it up your -"

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" Zell said hastily, leaping out of his chair and positioning himself between the two. Strategically speaking, it wasn't the wisest of moves, but he'd never seen Quistis lose it so completely in front of Squall before. He was pretty sure that in about an hour, she would regret whatever might have flying out of her mouth - he could speak from experience on that matter. Also, he had a strong suspicion that her lack of poise might have been his own fault to begin with. "What she means is, uh, why don't you give it here?" he asked, holding a hand out. He could feel Quistis' glower burning holes into his back, but he breathed a sigh of relief as she remained silent.

Squall was eyeing Zell's outstretched hand with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. _"You_ want to be mission leader this time," he said, meeting Zell's gaze. "Why?"

Zell straightened and forced his hand not to waver. Squall was staring at him - really _looking_ this time, not just giving him his usual gloss-over. Normally he would have twitched under the scrutiny. When the latest Sorceress War ended, Zell had tried his best to leave every bad memory they'd created behind. It wasn't that hard; taking it easy was something that came naturally to him, and everyone _wanted_ to forget. But, he realized as he stood his ground, maybe he'd let himself regress a little too much. He lifted his chin stubbornly. "I ain't the class clown anymore, Squall," was his honest reply. "I can do this. I want the mission."

On the plus side, Squall seemed to have forgotten about his argument with Quistis for the time being. Apparently he was too busy being flummoxed by Zell's unusual request. "This isn't about your mother again, is it?" he finally said, eyebrows lowering.

Zell frowned. Well it _was,_ sorta. He was still mad at Seifer, that much he would admit. But it wasn't just about _revenge_ anymore. Actually, he thought he'd said what it was really about pretty clearly. Maybe Squall just wasn't listening... which was kinda pissing him off. Zell toyed with the idea of stepping aside and letting Quistis have another round with their Commander, but shrugged it off quickly. It wasn't worth angering Squall any further if he really wanted that mission - which he did. Besides, he was trying to _protect_ Quistis, not use her as cannon fodder. Another bit of SeeD manual wisdom occurred to him: _If entrenchments or terrain prohibit a frontal assault, employ tactical maneuvers to outflank an enemy unit._ Zell kept his grin to himself and strove to match Squall's stern appearance.

"Dude, I've saved your bacon before! Back in Deling Prison, remember? I can handle this." _Beat that,_ he thought, forcing his hand to remain steady despite the fact that he was just itching to pump it in the air. It was a low blow, dragging up the time he almost died to save Squall's butt from the executioner's squad, but it'd get the job done. There was _no way_ Squall could deny his request now, not without giving himself the mother of all guilt trips - and judging from the state of the troll dolls lining the commander's desk, another guilt trip was the last thing he'd be looking for.

Squall continued to stare at him, though the annoyance had faded almost completely into surprise. He considered Zell for a moment longer, before sighing and handing over the manila folder. "Fine. Don't screw this up, Zell."

"Alright! I mean, yes sir!" Zell allowed himself a grin and bounced on the balls of his feet.

"But you're not going alone," Squall added pointedly. He glared at Zell until the other blonde noticed and finally - albeit somewhat reluctantly - shuffled out of the way. "Quistis," Squall said. "I'm still your Commanding Officer. You're going on this mission with Zell, like it or not. Whether you want to see it as an opportunity or just another punishment is up to you."

Quistis gave him a brief nod, her poker face firmly in place. It wasn't so much that she was still miffed at Squall, though that _was_ one of her reasons for remaining silent. What she felt at that moment, however, was a swelling sense of pride, and - strangely enough, happiness. _Real_ happiness, not just _fresh-coffee-in-the-morning_ or _no-blind-dates-today_ contentment. Strange that something which had eluded her for so long was finally making its presence known - and after she'd nearly gotten herself fired, no less - and it wasn't even on her own behalf. She was no longer under any illusions about the state of her own life; her experiences with Zell and his family had left her wanting _more_ than what she currently had, and clearly more than what her job alone could offer. There wasn't much cause for her to be _happy_ at the moment. But it seemed like something in the past week had rubbed off onto Zell; something she'd said or done had made him stronger rather than breaking him. He wanted to lead his own mission - _that_ was surprising enough. Watching him stand up to Squall, besting him in a disagreement with a verbal tactic rather than his fists: it made her want to crack a genuine smile despite everything else that was going south in her life. However, as she didn't _really_ want to scar Squall for life - Rinoa seemed to be doing a good enough job of that - Quistis took extra care to keep her face blank.

"If that's it, you both know what you have to do. As of now, your suspensions are lifted. Quistis, you'll get your license back pending the success of this mission. Oh, and Zell." Squall paused, trading his mild look of discomfort with his business glare. "The sooner this problem is taken care of, the better." He hesitated. "Don't let me down, I'm counting on you." Squall sighed and dropped his forehead into a palm. "Both of you."

Well, that was different. Squall, offering encouragement before a mission? At the least it looked like he wasn't going to demand Quistis' head on a silver platter. "Yeah, uh... thanks?" Zell offered uncertainly as he made for the door. Quistis stood and gave Squall a short nod before following Zell out of the office. They both took pains to ignore the freckled secretary, who was blatantly staring as they waited for the elevator to arrive. When the doors finally pinged shut behind them, Quistis sagged against the wall and Zell relaxed, letting out a gusty sigh of relief.

"I thought I was gonna wet my pants there for a while," he groaned. Then he rubbed his head and glanced at Quistis uneasily. "You, uh. You wanna talk about what happened?"

Quistis leaned her head back and let her eyes slide shut. "Last night or this morning?" she asked wearily.

Zell made a grab for the back of his neck, staring at the tops of his sneakers. "Well, I was talkin' about that blow-up in front of Squall, but..." He trailed off as Quistis let out a sharp laugh.

"He had it coming," she said, straightening as the elevator came to a stop. "Zell, about what you just did, and this mission..."

Zell flushed and studied the floor panelling, which had suddenly become fascinating. "Yeah, sorry about that," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to step on your toes or nothin', but man, were you even listenin' to yourself?" He glanced up at her with a hint of worry. "You don't _really_ wanna be kicked outta SeeD, do you?"

Quistis smiled faintly and shook her head. "No, no, I mean I wanted to thank you," she replied. "You... well, you did save me from myself back there, and I'm grateful for that. But that's not the only thing..."

Zell's shoulders sunk even lower. "It's about me leadin' this mission, ain't it," he supplied.

Quistis hid a smile. She reached out and touched his arm - gently, but his head shot up as though she'd socked him. "I'm happy for you," she told him. "I couldn't ask for a better team leader."

He stared at her for several long moments, his blue eyes wide. It was almost painful, Quistis thought, to watch the emotions flit over Zell's honest, open face as he processed her words. Painful, because she still didn't know how she fit into the equation. It was satisfying to be his mentor and his friend. But after the way she'd burned him last night, would he ever want anything more? She forced herself to stow those dark thoughts away and kept the reassuring smile fixed on her lips.

"... really?" he finally said, his voice still coloured by a faint note of disbelief. Quistis sighed and dropped her hand, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, _really,_ " she answered. "Now will you get out of the elevator before we gather an even larger audience?"

For the second time that day, Zell found the elevator doors had slid open without him noticing. A few cadets were standing outside, watching the show curiously while waiting for both of them to exit. Zell flushed and made his way out, muttering a half-hearted apology under his breath. _Damn it, you're not makin' things easier for her,_ he scolded himself, wondering just what exactly the Trepies were going to make out of his latest actions. He could almost feel their eyes tracking him across the walkway. That caused his feet to slow as he frowned. _Wait a sec._ Why were the Trepies tracking _him?_ Glancing around, he nearly jumped out of his shoes as he realized Quistis had followed him down the corridor. She stood now, arms crossed, patiently waiting behind him while he fumbled for words.

"Quisty? Uh, what're you doin'?" He'd figured she would cut and run as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Even if they hadn't openly spoken about their argument yet, the last place he expected Quistis wanted to be was hanging around _him._ Especially since he'd taken the liberty of reshaping her dorm walls last night.

She let out a soft sigh. "Following you," she said simply, as if that explained it. Taking in his baffled look, Quistis uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. "You're the mission leader now, Zell. That means you have to come up with a plan. For both of us."

Oh. _Huh._ He hadn't thought about that part when he'd asked for the assignment in Squall's office; it'd been a spur of the moment decision. The enormity of the situation suddenly slugged him full-on in the face. They were going after _Seifer._ _Today,_ even. "Shit, I do, don't I," he said slowly. "Well, why don't we... uh, I mean..." He frowned as Quistis waited and stared at the folder that was fast becoming crumpled in his hand. To be honest, he kinda wished Quistis was the one giving orders, rather than receiving them; it would have made him feel better to know _she_ had a plan, or at least could pretend to. He looked at Quistis sharply; she wasn't going to give him any help this time around, that much was plain to see. It was another one of her lessons, he realized - even if he hadn't asked for it, at least not directly. Though in a way, he guessed that he _had_ asked the moment he demanded to take the mission.

Zell thought about Quistis - everything he knew about her, everything he'd learned - and realized that maybe, _pretending_ to have a plan was what people did. At least until he could cook up something on his own. At any rate, it always made _him_ feel better when he thought that she knew what she was doing. It was worth a try, at least. "Okay, I got it," he said decisively. "Right now, we're gonna..." Scrabbling for an idea, Zell went with his gut instinct. What would he normally be doing at this hour on a non-mission, non-suspension kind of day?

 _Sleepin'. Oh, that'd go over real well. Hey Quisty, wanna go to bed?_ Zell shook his head to clear it. The idea of sleeping - or doing a little _more_ than just sleeping - with Quistis was nearly enough to derail his entire train of thought, but it wouldn't accomplish their mission and he was pretty sure she'd go all Limit Break on him if he even suggested it. Hurriedly he moved further down his typical schedule. "We're gonna go to the TC," he proclaimed, destination in mind.

"The Training Center?" Quistis asked with obvious reservation, though she did trail after him as he began walking again - in the proper direction this time. He'd been unconsciously angling for his dorm up until then, and privately he wondered if Quistis would've followed him all the way to his door without protest before he noticed. The Trepies would have gone Wendigoshit crazy if they'd actually done that.

"Yeah," he replied, scrapping for an answer to her unasked question. He decided for partial honesty. "We need to come up with a plan, Quisty. I'm no good at this strategamitizing stuff. Maybe we'll think of something while bustin' up a few Grats."

Quistis graced him with an understanding smile, stepping up her pace until they were walking side by side. He tried - and failed - to ignore how close she was to him. He could practically feel the heat of her arm radiating through her sleeve where it touched his. "Don't sell yourself short," she said softly. "That's not a bad idea. In fact..." she trailed off, her eyes lighting up as she tapped her chin. "Maybe that's exactly what we need to do. Seifer will be expecting us - frankly, I'm surprised he and Raijin haven't yet launched an assault on Garden to try and get Fujin back. He's certainly not intimidated by SeeD, and he's a capable fighter. Something else must be preventing him from coming here."

Zell snorted, pawing through the folder in his hand as a thought occurred to him. "Yeah, probably because he's too lazy to hike all the way over here from Balamb." He scanned through the mission reports, surprised to note that all those stupid little boxes that he'd glossed over many times before were actually _helping_ for once. It didn't take him _half_ as long to find what he was looking for when the information was _organized._ Unfortunately the particular report he was reading was his _own_ mission file, which was - as usual - shoddily written. Resolving to pay more attention to report instructions the next time he had to fill one out, he skimmed over the barely legible scrawl.

"Oh hey, here it is." Zell shoved the paper towards Quistis, pointing out the segment where he'd described the Posse's hideout. "Lookit this," he began eagerly. "They've been shacking up in that old fishing hut on the other side of the hill. It's a place where us kids used to play when we were little," he added, catching Quistis' look of confusion. "Trust me - nobody in their right mind would wanna live in that dump. Least not permanently. It smells worse than Leviathan's poop down there."

Quistis wrinkled her nose. "So you mean he's not staying in Balamb by choice," she said slowly.

Zell paffed a fist into his palm, accidentally crumpling the abused mission reports a little more. "Well, you saw how he looked. Think of it. Even Raijin was kinda skinny. And Rinoa's been sneakin' food down to Fujin, you know that."

Frowning, Quistis allowed Zell to shove open the heavy doors to the Training Center. She'd always assumed Seifer was causing trouble in Balamb just to be an asshole - that green hair dye stunt had pretty much cinched it for her. Any doubts she might have had were brutally quashed under one overriding goal: _accomplish the mission._ Now, though, those questions were refusing to be brushed aside. Maybe the Posse had resorted to petty vandalism out of desperation, rather than spite. Some nations still considered Seifer to be a war criminal, in fact. The sleepy fishing town of Balamb, housed under the shadow of the only home Seifer'd ever really known was one of the very few options that would have been left open to him. If that was the case, they might actually be doing Seifer and Raijin a favour by bringing them in.

Quistis sighed. Some evils, she supposed, were just unavoidable.

Zell was already pushing towards the densest portion of the underbrush.  He was obviously eager for a fight; the mission brief had been folded in half and stuffed into the back pocket of his shorts.  Quistis winced as she reached for her whip and unfurled it.  Obviously she was going to have to spend some time teaching Zell the finer points of mission etiquette if he was serious about leading teams.  "Zell," she called out, ducking as a protruding branch pulled at her skirt.  
  
"Can it wait a sec, Quisty?" he yelled back, already further ahead of her.  Pushing herself out of the dense thicket, Quistis came to a halt just in time to see Zell polish off the last of a pair of unfortunate Grats.  He clapped the dust from his hands as he turned to face her.  "Yeah?" he asked.  "Oh, uh, sorry 'bout not waitin' for you, but these guys were nothin'.  You can have the T-Rexaur if we find one," he added, perfectly serious.  
  
Quistis smirked.  "How romantic of you," she deadpanned.  Zell turned away from her and began shadowboxing almost instantly; she could tell from the brilliant red hue his ears were taking on that he was blushing.  In a way, she found his embarrassment endearing.  Trying just as much to chase her aberrant thoughts away as she was to get his attention, Quistis cracked her whip.  "The mission, Zell?"  
  
"Riiight," he said, finally coming to a standstill.  He kept himself more than two full arm-lengths away from her, though.  Exasperated, Quistis took a few giant strides towards him before he could back away.  
  
"As I was saying before, I have an idea," she said pointedly.  Zell was obviously jittery, nervous at being around her.  She directed a few silent, colorful curses towards their assignment - there was so much they still had to talk about, but this time, the mission really _did_ have to come first.  Still, it was hard to concentrate when Zell was bouncing around like that.  Once again Quistis found herself sharply noticing that nothing on him jiggled.  It really was a shame that huge jacket of his was hiding his shoulders.  Maybe if they fought a few more Grats, he'd work up enough of a sweat to consider ditching it, leaving her free to observe the play of his biceps and perhaps get a glimpse of those well-defined shoulders as he -  
  
"... idea?" Zell was saying.  "Quisty?  You hearin' me?"  
  
Quistis blinked.  "My idea.  Yes, of course, the mission," she said, mentally slapping herself for the distraction.  It was going to be terribly difficult to act as Zell's friend and mentor during this assignment if the only strategies she could come up with were how best to get him to drop his clothes.  She gave her brain another rough shake and focused on her objective.  "You said it yourself.  Seifer won't be expecting you to engage in any sort of advanced tactics.  He won't even be expecting you to lead this mission.  No - in a direct confrontation, he and Raijin will be focused on me.  We need to capitalize on that."  
  
"That just means I gotta watch out and make sure that whatever they throw doesn't reach you," Zell observed.  "So?  That's what I always do.  How's that help us?"  He stared at her, waiting for the rest of the explanation. 

 

Quistis smiled faintly.  "That's just it.  Instead of acting as my defence, you need to do the casting."  Zell froze.  "They won't be expecting us to exchange our traditional team roles.  Seifer won't be on the lookout for a physical attack from me.  And he certainly won't be expecting _you_ to produce any high-level spells."  
  
"That's 'cause I  _hate_ high-level magic," Zell replied immediately.  "Everybody knows that."

 

"Exactly."  Quistis nodded.  "You've made it perfectly clear - to everyone who has ever had a class with you - that you prefer to use your, er, body."  The word _assets_ flickered through her mind, but Quistis didn't exactly think Zell's physical prowess would be quite as distracting to Seifer as it was to her at this particular moment.  _Well, you never know,_ she thought, trying not to laugh.  _Seifer could have had a crush on Zell for all these years._   Well, Zell dropping his shirt and dancing could be their back-up plan - although it would immobilize _her_ as much as _Seifer._   Bad idea.  Quistis blinked and tried to turn her wildly careening thoughts back onto a somewhat productive path: magic, Junctions, mission.

 

Zell was shaking his head.  "Nah, it won't work," he said glumly.  "I'm outta practice.  What am I gonna do?  Cast a Fira at him?  He'll kick my ass, Quisty!"   He frowned.  "Actually, he'll laugh and call me a Chickenwuss first.  _Then_ he'll kick my ass."  
  
"You're already skilled at Junctioning," Quistis pointed out.  "The Brothers won't even cooperate with anyone else anymore.  The last time Selphie tried, Sacred gave her a migraine and some cock and bull story about having an exclusive contract with your brain."  
  
"But that's different," Zell protested, while at the same time giving the Brothers a sharp mental prod for having bugged his friend.  He felt them shift around in his mind and grumble irritably at the interruption to what they considered an extended vacation - eh, so maybe they _had_ made themselves a little too comfortable in his brain.  It wasn't like he actually summoned his GFs all that often, considering how much he liked fighting with his own two fists.  Maybe he should start, though.  The sudden spike of awareness and faint panic coming off of the Brothers - _lazy bastards_ \- had him wincing.  _Relax guys, I'm just kidding!_ Zell thought furiously and breathed a small sigh of relief as they settled back down to their usual dormant state.  "I'm not a real magic caster, Quisty!"  
  
"It's not that difficult," Quistis said patiently.  "Since we're here already, why don't you give it a try?  You only have to master the support magics, and I'll brush up on using my whip."  Seeing Zell's hesitation, she pursed her lips.  "Really, Zell.  Raijin and Fujin mastered support casting after our first battle against them, and they were only cadets then.  If even Raijin could do it, so can you."  
  
"Yeah, but..."  Zell stopped; Quistis was already whirling her whip through the air.  Her face held a momentary, far-off look of distraction as she rearranged her Junctions, most likely for physical power, and then released her attack.  The hapless bush on the receiving end of her lash was cloven into two neat pieces when her whip licked its base.  She turned towards him expectantly.  
  
"I can help you rearrange your Junctions if you're not sure which magics are most effective to use," she told him easily.  
  
Zell opened his mouth to defend his dignity - he was a Class A SeeD like the rest of 'em, and he'd taken the same stupid classes in Junctioning that they had (disregarding the fact that he'd answered his entire  _GF Identification_ final with cartoons) - but Quistis simply smiled at him, and the sight of Quistis _smiling_ stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks.  

 

"I'm sorry, Zell.  I know you know what you're doing," she said reassuringly.  "You just look a little worried.  Really, I don't mind helping you out at all."  She paused, and then pointed it out with an embarrassed little wince: "Honestly, I've got it memorized."

 

Zell felt himself flushing.  She was blithely offering to slip inside of his mind - which was probably not a good idea if he wanted to make it out of this strategy session in one piece.  Particularly when she was stretching like that - _Hyne,_ didn't she realize that her jacket had a split _right down the middle?_   His eyes felt glued to her navel and the soft, white skin surrounding it.  Her zipper was already riding high to begin with and slowly inching its way upwards with each twist.  Tearing his eyes away from the sight, Zell reminded himself of the much more immediate problem he had concerning Quistis' offer of assistance.  "Yeah, about that..."  
  
Quistis paused in her stretching to glance his way.  "What's wrong?"

 

Zell swallowed.  "I don't really have all that much status magic," he mumbled.  
  
That got her attention.  Quistis crossed her arms and gave him a look.  "What do you carry?" she asked, suspicious.  
  
"Well... I got a few Meltdowns from Rinoa," he began.  
  
"And?" Quistis prompted after a short silence.  
  
"... and that's it," Zell finished, shamed.  
  
Quistis closed her eyes and reflexively reached to rub at her forehead.  "Silence?  Confuse?  _Blind?_ " she tried, all being met with shakes of his head.  She let out a low sigh of exasperation.  "Do you carry _anything?_ " she asked tersely.  
  
"Hey, I got a little defensive support," Zell replied.  "Just... uh.  The usual.  Y'know. Haste and Protect.  Oh, and Shell!" he added as an afterthought.  
  
"Wonderful," Quistis grumbled under her breath.  "Perhaps we can buffer Seifer from our attacks before we hit him."  Seeing Zell's crestfallen look, she sighed.  "Listen, that's not important right now.  You're in luck, I have enough for the both of us.  You can just pull some stocked spells from me."  
  
Zell sucked in his breath.  Now not only was she offering to poke around inside of his head, she was going to let _him_ do the same to hers?  "Quisty..." he mumbled.  Didn't she _remember_ the last time he tried to draw some Esunas from her?  Quistis continued as though she hadn't even heard him.  She was already casting a Scan on him, he noted, her eyes narrowing critically as they glowed white.   
  
"Only four status spells in your entire repertoire?" she sighed with a note of disappointment.  "Well, at least you've learned to stock up on Esunas by now."   
  
He flushed.  So she _did_ remember.  Then why was she even doing this?  
  
"You'll need Aura, obviously," Quistis was saying.  "Dispel and Scan wouldn't be a bad idea either.  Some Reflect, too... Raijin might just be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice."  She frowned, mentally cataloguing her spells.  "Maybe five or six offensive ones after that.  Start out with Sleep, that should be the easiest to Draw," she told him, already unbuttoning one of her leather sleeves and stripping it off.  The jagged scar on her arm caught the light, shining against her pale skin. 

 

Zell panicked.  "Wait!  Can't we just do that - that Junction Exchange thing on the computer?"  The feeling of a full-on Junction swap was actually kinda painful - _"like being raped by an Ochu,"_ Irvine had described it - but whatever Quistis was planning seemed like it'd be a bit higher on the scale of uncomfortable things.  "You 'n me can just swap, right?"

 

Quistis tucked her sleeve into a pocket in her belt and shook her head, pursing her lips.  "You know the Brothers won't work with me," she said matter-of-factly, "and I'm fairly sure Shiva won't work with you.  I don't really see why it's such a problem."  She turned her gaze on him, waiting for something.

 

Zell licked his lips.  "Quisty, I don't think..."  To hell with the mission - even catching Seifer wouldn't be worth the price he'd pay if just _one_ of his thoughts about the unsatisfactory state of Quistis' zippered top and what he wanted to do to with it slipped away from him and into her brain.   
  
She didn't let him finish his argument, grabbing his limp hand and working to peel his fighting glove off.  "Honestly, Zell," she said.  "Skin-to-skin contact will make this much easier.  You should know that already."  
  
He wasn't really paying attention; her fingers were deftly undoing the buckles on his glove and dancing over his own in her attempts to pull it off.  Everywhere that she touched his bared hand, it felt like small electric sparks were being fired.  Except these didn't hurt.  They were pretty damn uncomfortable, though, reminding him of just how soft Quistis' skin was and how easy it would be to just reach out and _touch_ it - to grab her, especially when she that close and leaning over him, and her zipper was already undone halfway to her chest anyway, so what would one little tug hurt?  
  
Zell jerked himself out of his daydream.  Actually, it would probably hurt a lot.  He strove to remind himself of all of the Blue Magic he'd ever remembered seeing Quistis use.  _Was she actually pulling his hand towards her chest?_   He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the soft brush of fabric against his knuckles.  
  
"Ugh, who puts that many buckles on a _glove?_ " she mumbled, dropping his arm in defeat.  Zell let out a tiny sigh of relief - and then his eyes flew open as he heard the soft rustle of cloth.  Quistis was pulling her other sleeve off - what was she _doing_ \- and now reaching for his hand again.  He made a small, choked noise as she drew his hand back in towards her chest, palm side up - yes, she really _was_ holding it directly between her breasts - and began to pull at the last remaining strap.  "If this doesn't work I might have to use my teeth," she muttered.  _Ohyesplease._   Zell swallowed.  After what seemed like a short eternity, the glove finally came off.  
  
"You really should take off both of them," Quistis was saying, now reaching for his _other_ hand.   
  
Zell drew away from her sharply; when she looked up, questioning, he shrugged and began to fumble with the straps holding the Ehrgeiz fast to his hand on his own.  "I got it," he told her.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, isn't that your off hand?" she insisted, making a grab for him once more.  "It'll be faster if you just let me do it."  He pulled his hand out of her grasp with startling alacrity.  
  
"'m ambidextrous," he muttered, pulling off his glove as quickly as he could.  Hyne, _anything_ to get her to stop being so touchy-feely.  He was getting kind of lightheaded and they hadn't even started trading spells yet.  "Right, so, uh, what next?" he asked, tucking his gloves carefully away in his pockets.  
  
Quistis grabbed his hands - _shitshitshit_ \- and placed them firmly against her upper arms.  "Now, do it just like you did before in the Library.  But.... try to be a little more careful this time, okay?" she told him.  "You don't want to turn me into a vegetable, after all."  Seeing his face pale, she offered him a placating smile.  "Don't worry, I'll guide you through it," she soothed.  "You won't hurt me."  Quistis closed her eyes briefly - un-Junctioning the appropriate spells, he figured - and he had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss her then, standing so loose and vulnerable in his grasp.  
  
Zell groaned and steeled himself.  _Down boy,_ he commanded himself - and, rather uselessly, Quistis' zipper.  Not that his abortive attempts at mental control were helping in either case.  
  
"Okay," she said firmly, opening her eyes and staring at him.  She seemed a little nervous; he frowned to himself.  Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea.  
  
"Y'know, we don't really need to do this," he began quickly.  "I bet we can come up with another way -"  
  
Quistis grit her teeth.  "Shut up and draw the spells, Zell," she commanded brusquely in full Instructor mode.  
  
Reflexively, Zell flinched and complied.

  
Quistis kept her eyes open and forced herself to relax, watching Zell's pupils dilate as he dove into her head.  Admittedly, she was nervous, though not for the same reasons she guessed Zell suspected.  He was as jumpy as a newborn Mesmerize around her, and that just had to change.  An apology would be awkward at best; she'd already realized he'd forgiven her for the previous evening's outburst the moment he'd touched her shoulders outside of Squall's office.  The relief she had felt flooding through her then had been very real.  But obviously, he was about as aware of her confused feelings for him now as she was of his. 

 

This was really the best way she could think of at the moment to - well, to express to Zell something she couldn't really say with words.

 

She felt him flailing around clumsily in her head, trying to sift through the myriad of spells she had stocked and find the right ones.  Steeling herself, Quistis leaned in and pushed a few Sleep spells forward into his eager grasp.  She focused on one of the memories she was trying to couple with it, attempting to broadcast it across their connection.  It wasn't working; manipulating actual thought was nothing at all like Junctioning and Zell, having found what he was looking for, was already trying to withdraw.  _Shiva, help me,_ she pleaded in silent desperation.  There was a quiet, almost inaudible sigh in her mind, and then the spells were shaken loose - and a thread of memory was drifting along with them, delicately winding itself between the flowing magic.  
  
 _"I'm not asking you to say anything.  I just want you to listen."_  
  
She felt Zell draw back sharply as though he'd been burned, but he couldn't extract himself from the memory, not without letting go of the spells he had taken.  
  
 _"Then go talk to a wall."_ Tied to the memories were her emotions; the fluttering uncertainty, followed by her dismay.  
  
 _"Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone?"  
_  
 _"Everyone has to take care of themselves."_   Anger then, and disappointment.  Humiliation.  And underneath all that...  
  
 _"... No leadership qualities... Failed instructor... Perhaps they're right..."_  
  
Zell shook himself free, his hands clenching spasmodically against her arms.  She held his unseeing gaze fast, almost shoving the next set of spells onto him.  Like before, the memories came with them.  
  
 _"You know, just because you've started dating Irvine doesn't mean you can waltz in here and -"_   Exasperation.  Weariness.  
  
 _"That's not why I'm doing this!  It's just like that in that song, Quisty.  You know!  Every-boooody!  Needs some-boooody!  Bah-da-dah!"_ And underneath the annoyance, was that jealousy?  Or was it regret?  Because -  
  
 _"I'm not everybody."_  
  
The connection broke with a snap, and they were once again in the Training Center, in the _present,_ and Zell was looking at her now, confused and uncertain.  "Quisty," he began.  
  
"Keep going," she told him firmly.  
  
"But -"  Despite what she'd done, he hadn't released her from his grasp.  His hands were a warm and reassuring pressure against her arms; he wasn't running away.  Not like she had, when faced with the truth.  It bolstered her courage.  
  
"I want you to see.  Go on," she prodded, offering him her eyes.  He hesitated, and she added:  "Before I lose my nerve."  
  
He sighed and reached for the next set of spells she had lined up.  His arms, which had been holding her stiffly almost a full length away, were slowly relaxing and drawing her closer, as if he wanted to buffer her from the sharpness of her own memories with his embrace.  She leaned in and stared at him, allowing the current of magic and memory to connect them once more.  
  
The images flowed more freely now; a string of dates, an almost never-ending parade of hopeful faces.  A few she'd chosen on her own at the beginning, only to be met with disappointment at experiences which had left her wanting.  Then the setups; Rinoa's eagerness, learning to dread that one particular grin Selphie would have when approaching her.  Annoyance, embarrassment, frustration, and always, _always_ \- that emptiness, that sense of something lacking.  Not a single hint of the passion Selphie and Irvine shared, none of the trust Rinoa and Squall placed in one another.  
  
Quistis felt Zell stiffening; he was trying to pull himself out of this particular set of memories as quickly as he could without hurting her.  Apparently he really, _really_ didn't want to see her dating other people.  Somewhere along the way, she realized that her own arms had circled around Zell's sides to brace herself.   Now she tightened her grip, holding him fast, refusing to release him.  Even if he was uncomfortable, he _needed_ to see this.  She needed him to understand.  
  
The spells were nearly forgotten as much more recent memories began floating to the surface.  His panicked attempts to escape from her grasp slowed and finally stilled as he recognized what he was now seeing; he was just experiencing them through a different set of eyes.  He saw himself race into Squall's office, out of breath; he remembered that she'd seemed slightly put off that first day, and now he knew why - _she was annoyed.  Coupled with the recent slew of disastrous set-ups, her delicate equilibrium was threatening to slide into serious irritation.  At being assigned a useless mission, with Zell Dincht of all people, as if her day could get any worse..._  
  
Zell nearly managed to pull himself free at that; this was far more crushing than he'd even imagined.  It was a confirmation of everything he'd suspected was wrong between them and more.  It was even worse than the time he'd sparred with Raijin and the huge man had wound up sitting on his chest.  He couldn't breathe, he had to get _out,_ but Quistis wouldn't let him go -  
  
More images flashed by, rapidly - _the failed mission, her fury, the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy,_ ** _again,_** _and then -_ Zell's wild struggles came to an abrupt stop as a foreign emotion, something he was completely not expecting, assaulted his senses.  _Shame._   He saw himself standing in the middle of the Training Center, grinning at her foolishly while holding out his hand.   
  
 _"Friends again?"_  
  
 _That was it,_ he realized with a jolt that he was not entirely sure was his own.  _That was when she actually started seeing_ ** _me._**  
  
But why the shame?  
  
Quistis had grown still in his arms, her grip slackening.  The memories were no longer being pressed upon him with the same sense of urgency.  She hadn't shoved any more spells in his direction, but her mind was still open to his, lax and unresisting.  Tentatively, he reached out, trying to Draw a few more spells as gently as he could from her mind.  Bits and pieces of the time they'd spent together unfolded in his head like a jigsaw puzzle, each strangely familiar but colored with the flavor of Quistis' own perception.  Her surprise - and, he noted, _displeasure_ \- at his attempt to act the gentleman at Felicia's.  The exquisite confusion she'd felt when he'd nearly kissed her - so she _had_ felt it too - as they hid from Seifer.  And the unexpected rush of need at catching him shirtless.   Desire that she'd let simmer up till then burst out of her, spectacularly, in the nightclub.  He almost lost his balance, revisiting that particular memory through her eyes.  
  
It wasn't so much her sudden itch that was demanding to be scratched - hell, he hadn't even known girls got _that_ itch - it was the raw, aching need just below its surface.  The greedy, insistent demands of her body were being fuelled by a much more deep-seated desire.  She didn't want to be the one who always stood alone, free from the needs and concerns of other _normal_ people.  She wanted to be just as _human_ and _fallible_ and _stupid_ and _annoying_ as anyone else lucky enough to find someone to call their very own.  She _wanted_ him just as much as she needed _to be wanted_ by him.  
  
Did that make it love?  It was hard to concentrate on an answer when the swirl of her emotions were buffeting him mercilessly.  Hyne knew he'd never call her an _Ice Princess_ again.  The sheer fury of the desperate emotional tornado whirling within her left him feeling raw and unsteady.  He hadn't realized that Rinoa and Selphie were _right_ to have been worried about her.  He felt worse for not having clearly understood what it was that she needed from him until then.  
  
He still wasn't sure he'd call it _love._   It didn't feel like the eye-popping, relief-inducing revelation he'd had in Squall's office at all.  This almost felt like panic - or despair, maybe a mixture of both, and just a little bit of shame and misery on the side because Quistis was smart enough to work out that whatever she was feeling probably wasn't _healthy_ on her own.  If that was what she called _love,_ it sure _hurt._   No wonder she'd tried to buck him off with the first passable date Rinoa had thrown her way.  It seemed like Quistis carried around more emotional baggage than _Squall,_ and _that_ was saying something.  Any guy in his right mind would turn tail and run once he understood this, and she knew it - that would be the smart thing to do, after all.  Quistis had all but convinced herself that she'd never understand what love _was,_ much less experience it first-hand.  
  
But he'd never really been all that smart.  And _he_ loved _her._  
  
Quistis' hands tightened around his waist again, and to his surprise, Zell found that he'd dragged her in close, nearly crushing her.  He let Quistis' terror and dull resignation, now that he _knew,_ slip from his mind, and focused on the memory that buoyed those emotions across instead.  Truth be told, he was more than a little curious to see what she'd felt that night.  More than that, however, the desire to let her know that he wasn't going to drop her faster than a pair of Seifer's dirty underwear was taking precedence.  She had wanted him to understand her, and now he wanted her to understand him.  Clearly.  A small part of him - well, perhaps not so small for much longer, considering how he could feel Quistis' curves through his shirt when she was standing that close - was also hinting that showing her how he felt might actually be _fun_.  Although the word seemed like a vast understatement for the anticipation he was currently feeling. 

 

Did this mental connection thing work both ways?  Willingly, Zell let himself get lost in the heady memory of their first kiss at the nightclub.  He prodded at her gently, coaxing her to relax a little -

 

Zell was surprised and completely unprepared for the sudden voracity of the emotions which overtook him, threatening to swallow him whole.  _The hell -!_   Apparently Quistis didn't do _anything_ halfway, not even arousal.  He couldn't have pulled himself from those sensations if he tried, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.  Dappled spots of sunlight filtering through the trees of the Training Center blended with the flashing strobe lights of the dance floor.  He remembered the taste of strawberries and tequila, the insistent pressure of her lips.  They parted against his, and whether it was an invitation or simply a reactive gasp to the slowly growing bulge against her thigh, he was more than willing to take advantage of it and delve his tongue into her mouth.  She didn't taste like strawberries anymore and dimly, he realized it was because they _weren't in_ the club, that they were standing in the middle of an artificial jungle surrounded by annoying and potentially dangerous creatures.  And besides the cadets, there could also be monsters in the area.  
  
The brief moment of clarity slipped from him and once again they were lost in the crush of bodies and the pulse of music as darkness descended.  Somewhere, distantly, Zell knew he should be worried; panicking, even, but it was just so hard to concentrate when Quistis was kissing him like he was the last available male on the planet.  Her leg was hooking around his thigh; he stifled an involuntary groan against her mouth which she answered with a muffled murmur of approval.  Her fingers were digging into his hair - _no, weren't they around his waist_ _?_ \- and she made that noise in the back of her throat again, the one that convinced him to forget that they were surrounded by just about a million people and drive her awkwardly against a nearby tree in order to get a better grip.  Wait - what the hell was _a tree_ doing in the middle of a nightclub?  
  
Zell jerked his head back to stare at her, and the low sound of buzzing filled his ears.  He felt the uncomfortable shifting of the agitated GFs in his head - Diablos was _laughing,_ a cruel sound, and clutching at something - some _things_ \- which felt cool, chilly even.  It was numbing his ability to think almost as much as the feel of Quistis' body pressed against his own was.  
  
"S-stop," Quistis was saying and he realized he'd been staring at her the entire time.  "We have to stop," she repeated shakily, her arms still wrapped around his waist, it was his _waist_ and they were in the _Training Center,_ not _Balamb,_ and the blocks of ice he felt jostling around in his head were her _spells._   He didn't even know which ones he was taking anymore, and the sting intensified as he realized he was on the brink of pulling Shiva right out of her head along with the rest of her magic.  
  
Zell withdrew from her mind so quickly he nearly brained himself, a headache already starting to form.  A mental wall he hadn't even realized was there finally relaxed, easing both the tension and the headache slightly; the mild rumbling in its aftermath had him considering that perhaps the Brothers weren't really as lazy as he pegged them to be.  At least he sure didn't remember asking them to save his ass - and his consciousness - from inextricably melting into Quistis' own.  His whole body shook as if he'd just run a marathon, and he allowed his head to drop onto Quistis' shoulder without even bothering to consider whether or not she'd welcome the burden.  He was just too exhausted to care, and pretty damn scared to boot.  
  
Not that it hadn't felt good.  _Hyne._

Quistis drew in a shaky breath underneath - _underneath!_ \- him, and Zell finally noticed that not everything he'd seen had been a memory. They were both scratched and bleeding from where they'd stumbled through the bushes, and breathing as heavily as though they'd just fought off an entire nest of Ruby Dragons. He eased away from her, mindful of the rough bark of the trunk he'd all but rammed her into during their heated kiss. At least, he was pretty sure they'd kissed. His mouth was tingling in that way it tended to do after they kissed. Though maybe that was just the memory from the club. He wondered if he should lean in and make doubly sure that they really _had_ kissed now that his head was on straight. If you could call being pressed up against a pliant, willing Quistis Trepe while at the same time pitching a tent in your pants "thinking clearly." He was pretty sure she could feel him, because after all it was _her_ thigh that was contributing to the problem. As if to confirm his suspicions, Quistis made a small noise of distress; suddenly worried, Zell began to extricate himself from her grasp. He shifted his knee uncomfortably; it had wound up pressed between her legs. Which were currently clamped around it, and tightening in protest to his movements. Quistis made another small noise and clutched at him, and he then recognized it as a low moan. His cock stiffened a little more and he exhaled shakily.  
  
"Let's not do that again, okay?" he mumbled into her shoulder - and then added hastily, "Uh, the spell thing. Yeah." The small, rapid puffs of her breath against his ear were slowly driving him insane. He turned his face into her neck and clumsily tugged at her high collar with his teeth until he'd worked it down enough to reach the bare flesh of her throat; when he finally did manage to brush his lips against her skin, he felt her pulse racing.  
  
"Yes, I think you have enough _spells,_ " Quistis replied, her eyes falling shut as he gave her pulse-point an experimental lick. The sensation caused her toes to curl and her breath to expel the rest of her sentence in a soft hiss. That only seemed to encourage him; the licks soon changed into a soft suckling sensation. "Zell -" He sucked harder and Quistis tensed even more. "I meant it," she murmured, struggling to keep her focus. Now he was alternating the licking and the sucking; she spared a brief moment of thanks to consider that the cut of her battle gear would hide the enormous hickey he was probably giving her right then. "We really should stop," she finished, even as her hands betrayed her. They'd wandered downwards, curiously demanding an answer to the question that had plagued her since Squall's office: _Just how much cushioning does he have down there anyway?_  
  
Zell let out a small grunt of approval, not bothering to lift his head away from her neck as she gave his buttocks an experimental squeeze. Sweet Shiva, but Zell had a fantastic ass. Why hadn't anyone discovered this before? She gave it another tentative brush with her fingertips and was rewarded as he shifted his position slightly, dragging his muffled erection closer towards her center. Scratch that, it was a damn good thing that he liked baggy pants. She gave his butt another firm squeeze; his ass was _hers._  
  
Zell finally released her neck to trail his lips upward; he was nipping at the underside of her ear now, cautiously nudging the evidence of his arousal into the valley between her legs. The restricting constraint of their clothing was causing a pleasant friction to heat Quistis' belly. If he kept poking her like that while they were necking, though, it would threaten to turn uncomfortable rapidly.

 

"We need to stop before this goes too far," Quistis tried to remind herself out loud - even as her hands circled his hips and found their way back to his waist, where they traitorously began to work on undoing the buckle of his belt. It was slow going, considering how insistently he was grinding into her - not that she was complaining. Though she should be. Really. She'd start any minute now, right after he finished brushing against that particular spot - _ooh._ Or not.

Zell's fingers wound through her hair, and his hips were rolling forward in a smooth rhythm that her own body picked up on instantly. He was being careful - moving slowly, giving her ample time to back away and escape had she wanted to, but he'd pulled his face away from her neck in order to watch her expression. The somber intensity he was currently broadcasting was completely at odds with his boyish features. _Scared,_ she realized then. He was scared that she was going to push him off, to reject him and run away again. He was doing his best to hide it behind his impressive bravado and even more impressive erection, but he was still watching her carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

At that moment Quistis couldn't have cared less that they were in the middle of the Training Center, draped over one another against _a tree_ for Hyne's sake while dry-humping, where the First Years or even a stray Buel could have brought a rather embarrassing end to their tryst. She forced Zell's hips to still with her hands, pushing him back and wordlessly ignoring his pained look of disappointment. She would have smiled if she hadn't been so desperate for his touch on her heated skin. Even now, when the only thing separating them from being completely indecent were a few thin layers of clothing, he was still trying to hold back, to let her have the final decision. It was obvious that he wanted her, but he _liked_ her more. Heart pounding, Quistis told herself to stop overthinking the situation and take advantage of what he was offering while she had the chance - before their hazy, lust-filled daydream dissipated into the harsh reality of morning. She took the opportunity to finally pull that damned belt away from his waist and hook her finger under the waistband of his shorts. The button popped free, and the sound of the zipper she pulled down afterwards was almost as loud as his harsh intake of breath.

 

Zell looked like he was struggling for words, but Quistis allowed herself a small smirk and silenced him with an open-mouthed kiss. His protest - or encouragement - quickly died out in favour of negotiating an agreement with her tongue. He froze, however, when she pulled away from him to boldly reach inside of his pants. He was still wearing those boxer-briefs, she noted with approval, although this time their colour had changed to a loud lime green, decorated with a repeating pattern of small cartoon UFOs. Hiding her snort of amusement, Quistis ghosted her fingers lightly over the rather obvious bulge they were hiding, smiling in approval when it twitched under her ministrations. "Nice underwear," she murmured to him with a wicked grin.

Eyes wide and somewhat at a loss for words, Zell managed to grit out a tight "thanks" through his clenched teeth. She cupped him again and squeezed gently, ever so gently, and a gutteral groan escaped him as his hips bucked forward. Quistis tsked softly, scolding him - Hyne, he was starting to understand why her students liked misbehaving in class so much - before carefully herding him around so that his back was to the tree. He collapsed against the trunk for support, his legs feeling like jelly and his breath leaving him in fast, shallow pants. Her hand had cradled his crotch the entire time, massaging him insistently. "Quisty," he gasped, reaching for her and trying to pull her away before - _holy fuck_ , now her hand was _inside_ of his briefs, straightening him out. If he'd thought she'd been squeezing him earlier, it was _nothing_ compared to this. He tugged at her arm weakly, unable to form words because his throat seemed to have closed off.

 __  
Quistis was too busy trying to memorize the feel of Zell's turgid erection in her palm to take notice of the sudden way he tensed when she grabbed him. A breathless, intense curiosity had overtaken her the moment she touched him. She ran her fingers lightly over the underside of his cock, tracing the protruding veins down his length and letting her fingertips linger under the gentle swell of his head. Her fingers ghosted over his tip and a warm drop of moisture leaked from him as he let out another low groan. Biting back a smile, she massaged it carefully away and then dragged her hand back down to the base of his shaft, letting her thumb and forefinger brush against the coarse tangle of curls she felt there. Abruptly, Quistis felt the need to find out if he was as platinum blonde below the waist as he was above; her quest to fully divest Zell of his underwear fell short, however, when she realized he was also reaching for her.  
  


She batted him away, redirecting his shaky fingers to her breast - the sound of _her_ zipper coming undone nearly did the same to his tenuous grasp on control - where they clutched reflexively at the soft mound of flesh peeking out above her simple black bra. He pushed the fabric away impatiently, exposing that perfect breast to the world before covering it with his palm. _Yep_ \- it still felt as good as he remembered. In fact it felt _doubly good_ now that he actually had permission to touch it. He traced the bump of her pebbled nipple with his thumb, fascinated by her obvious reaction. Then he abruptly forgot about her breasts because Quistis' hand had circled his stiff cock completely and was now pulling upwards. _Hyne,_ it felt good, nothing at all like those times he'd done it to himself. He leaned into her touch eagerly. "Quistis," he ground out, grabbing her shoulder to try and shove her away. It turned into a strange sort of one-handed embrace instead, because she palmed him before reversing the motion, and there was no way in hell he could let go of her now. _Fuck,_ but she was going so _slow,_ and it felt like he was coming apart at the seams, that if he made the slightest movement he would _burst_. He let out a shaky sigh. "Quisty, if you don't stop I'm gonna -!" he tried to say, but it came out more as a choked gurgle.

"Shh," she replied, leaning in to carefully plant a wet kiss against the exposed line of his throat while giving him another, firmer stroke.

  
And suddenly it was all too much. He'd been holding himself back, hovering on the brink of the sexually charged tension between them even before he'd completely withdrawn from her exposed mind. The pressure broke over him like one of Leviathan's tidal waves, and Zell let out a hoarse yell as his hips jerked forward. He came hard, spurting his release into her hand (and his now-soiled underwear), and spent several long moments twitching convulsively against the tree, trembling from the fierce intensity of his orgasm. When his muddled senses finally began to clear, the first thing he noticed was the rich, earthy smell of the jungle mingling with the heady scent of Quistis' arousal. His heart was still hammering in his ears, and he could hear the gentle rasp of her rapid breaths acutely. He leaned his head back in exhaustion and tried to catch his breath.  
  
Hyne, doing this with Quistis wasn't _anything_ like doing it by himself. Having her still there afterwards, wrapped in his arms rather than disappearing in a puff of fantasy made the aftershocks that much better. A small part of him understood, with a niggling sense of worry, that masturbation wasn't really ever going to be enough to satisfy him anymore, not after what he knew now. A larger part of him was just glad that his first time - well, _sorta_ first time - had been with Quistis, rather than anybody else.  
  
Quistis shifted slightly, waking him from his daze, and Zell suddenly noticed was that her hand was still wrapped around his slowly deflating cock. "Oh, _shit,_ " he mumbled, feeling the slow burn of embarrassment overtake him. He almost couldn't meet her eyes, but it was hard to start being shy when she had her hand down his pants and covered in the sticky remains of his over-eagerness.


	18. In Which Quistis Loses Her Composure

Quistis sighed and carefully pulled her hand out from Zell's briefs, letting the elastic waistband smack back into place smartly against his stomach to signal her frustration. Wincing, Zell figured he probably deserved that. _You moron, you finished without her,_ he blasted himself, wondering just how pissed Quistis was going to be at him now. "Umm... uh..." he fumbled, watching her awkwardly as she straightened her bra and zipped her shirt closed. "Sorry?" he offered lamely.  
  
"No, it's fine," Quistis said, sounding rather unconvinced while crouching down to wipe her hand off as best she could on a rough patch of grass. She took her time standing up, a faint hint of color dusting her cheeks - whether the after effects of their makeout session or embarrassment, he couldn't tell. She kept her gaze on him steady, however, and let a wry smile twist at her lips. "Story of my life, actually. Reaching too hard for something I wanted and getting it before I was ready. I suppose I'm a natural born overachiever," she joked.  
  
Zell let out the breath he'd been holding in a relieved whoosh; so she _wasn't_ mad at him. Still, he felt pretty damn stupid as he reached for his shorts and secured them around his waist. Her eyes were tracking the movements of his fingers and it made him clumsy.  
  
"Are you really ambidextrous?" she said thoughtfully, breaking the pregnant silence that had been growing between them.  
  
Zell just barely managed not to stab his thumb through with his belt buckle when she asked. Sucking it up to bad karma, he shrugged and tried to appear more comfortable than he felt - which was particularly difficult, considering how distinctly soggy his underwear had become.  
  
"Yeah," he replied stiffly, then grinned a little. "Even if I don't look it right now."   
  
Quistis returned his smile almost shyly. "I don't suppose I can blame you," she joked. Then, her posture straightening, she pulled her leather sleeves on and began to scan their surroundings - quite literally, in fact, casting another spell that had her eyes lighting up with that freaky glow. She doused the Scan quickly, turning back towards him with a purposeful expression. "There's a set of Third-Years about thirty meters away. But they should be easy enough to avoid, if you want to go back to your room and..." Here her eyes dropped to the front of his pants, and Zell was gratified to see that he wasn't the only one turning red. "... er, freshen up."   
  
Quistis cleared her throat, donning her professional mask to hide her discomfort. "I'd better do the same." She crossed her arms and shot a glance in the direction of the Training Center's doors without actually moving towards them. "Well..." she trailed off almost reluctantly, lingering by the tree. _Their tree,_ Zell decided he'd call it from now on, though technically he supposed it was only _his_ tree, since Quistis hadn't actually - he banished that train of thought and quickly pulled his gloves on, taking a moment to knock a bit of bark off of the trunk with his knuckles.  
  
"Marking your territory?" Quistis observed. Zell grinned and gave her a sheepish shrug.  
  
"Somethin' like that," he admitted.   
  
Another looming, awkward silence sprang to life between them as they both rather obviously tried to come up with a reason not to leave. Those Third Years were coming closer, though, and it wasn't as if Zell's pants were getting any drier standing there. He shifted uncomfortably and hoped Quistis wouldn't notice, but she let out a small sigh of defeat. "I'll see you later then?" she asked wistfully.  
  
Zell grabbed the back of his neck; it didn't seem right, after everything that'd just happened, to simply walk away. He looked at the front of his shorts and made his decision. _Aw, fuck it, it's denim anyway._ Besides, he'd walked through Garden's hallways in worse shape. Zell Dincht was rather renowned for getting into the most humiliating accidents imaginable. If someone asked, he could just say the faulty plumbing in the bathroom had sprayed him again. It wasn't like anyone would notice unless they bent down and sniffed at his crotch - and what kind of sickos would want to do that to him anyway? Well, except for maybe the Trepies. They _were_ kinda like bloodhounds. Shrugging off that uncomfortable thought, he gave Quistis a tentative smile.  
  
"Mind if I come with you?" he asked.  
  
Quistis blinked. "To my dorm?" she said slowly. "Right _now?_ " Her eyes dropped to the front of his pants again and he grimaced. "Are you sure you want to do that, Zell? Your room _is_ closer to the TC than mine, you know."  
  
He toyed with the thought of having Quistis in his dorm room - _spread across his bed naked_ , _now **that** was the stuff of fantasies_ \- but let it go almost as quickly. He'd pretty much ensured that their "extracurricular activity" had finished even before it started; they were kinda done with each other for now, weren't they? Plus, taking Quistis to his room in the middle of the morning was an almost sure-fire way to send the Trepies on the warpath. "Naw, I'd rather walk you back to yours," he decided. Quistis raised one skeptical eyebrow at him, but she couldn't quite hide the minute slump of her shoulders as she relaxed. Inwardly Zell grinned, knowing he'd made the right choice for Quistis. A little sticky discomfort in his underwear seemed a small price to pay for that. "Don't worry, I can handle... uh, this," he said uncomfortably, gesturing at his shorts. Decision made, Zell began to clear a path through the underbrush towards the exit and motioned for Quistis to follow him.  
  
"I apologize for that," Quistis said quietly. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."  
  
"Aww, don't sweat it," Zell replied easily; once he made a decision, he found it easy to just let go and relax. It wasn't like he could change anything right now - especially not his shorts - and he sure wasn't regretting the events that had led up to his little "accident" in the first place. "I liked it," he admitted nervously, watching her from the corner of his eye.  
  
Quistis snorted and rolled her eyes. "I think I could tell," she shot back. The smirk died from her lips as they passed through the doors and into the public hallway, however, and her back straightened. As far as Zell was concerned, that whole Seifer thing could just wait, because he knew they had a newer and much more important mission to deal with: get Quistis back to her room as quickly as possible, and then change his shorts at the next available opportunity. Failure was _definitely_ not an option here.  
  
Quistis scanned the hallway nervously. It was still pretty early, or at least it would be by Dincht reckoning; for the average cadet, however, the standard breakfast hour was fast approaching. She felt a mild twinge of guilt for accepting Zell's offer of accompaniment. Though she guessed they would manage to make it to her dorm room without too much incident, Zell was still going to be caught right in the middle of the morning rush hour. As they exited the corridor and turned out onto the main walkway, an idea to help Zell out occurred to her. That her inspiration was fuelled by that fast-approaching jogging kid - who also happened to be Trepie [#48](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%2348) \- was pure coincidence, she told herself firmly. Judging from the way Zell had suddenly tensed at her side, he not only recognized the incoming disaster, but would probably be thankful for her diversion. _Really, he will,_ she repeated to herself with more than just a bit of guilt. Saying it in her head didn't make it sound any more believable than she thought Zell would find it afterwards, but there wasn't really time to quibble about the details. "Hold your breath," Quistis said suddenly, whirling on him.  
  
His mouth was still in the process of forming the question "Why?" when she planted her palm squarely into his chest and gave him a firm shove. Quistis, however, was not operating at her usual level of efficiency - though to be fair, the amount of sexual frustration she'd already experienced that morning was most likely to blame. In the heat of the moment, it slipped her mind that she was still Junctioned for strength. Zell's "why" abruptly changed into a _"whoa!"_ as he went sailing backwards. She winced as he hit the fountain with an enormous splash, sending a plume of water spraying high into the air.  
  
Well, at least her Accuracy Junction was still working just fine, Quistis thought with embarrassment as she rushed to the railing.  
  
Zell broke the surface of the water coughing and sputtering. "Quisty, what the hell?" he bellowed as he tried to push the now-sagging mop of his hair away from his eyes.  
  
Biting her lip, Quistis leaned over and offered him a hand as he flailed through the water towards her. "You could say I miscalculated," she said nervously. Zell waved her off and managed to haul himself out of the fountain with ease; he spent a few moments dripping all over the newly polished floor and looking extremely pissed off. "Erm... sorry," she muttered under her breath. "I'm doing nothing but causing you problems today, aren't I."  
  
Noticing her stricken expression, Zell paused in his attempts to squeeze the water out of his soaked jacket and gave her a half-hearted smile. "Oh, uh, I was gonna clean up in my room anyway," he told her. Then he pulled the waterlogged envelope out of the back pocket of his shorts. It was already starting to disintegrate along the crease he'd crumpled into it. "Just... y'know, I don't think Squall's gonna let me lead another mission anytime soon once he sees this."  
  
Pursing her lips, Quistis plucked the folder out of his hands. At least she tried to; instead, she completed the job the water had already started and ended up with literally half of the report in her grasp. Snatching the other half out of Zell's hands in the hope that he wouldn't realize that she'd just destroyed what were technically classified SeeD documents, she gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll take responsibility for this one," she said with more confidence than she felt. Eyeing the small puddle of water that was starting to form around Zell's feet - and the jogger, who'd actually stopped and was staring at them open-mouthed now - she gestured for Zell to follow her as discreetly as she could. "Let's get out of here before one of the Custodians drop by."  
  
"Right!" Zell, having noticed the curious on-looker, shifted his weight from one foot to the next, trying desperately to look like nothing was wrong - and failing, miserably, as each of his sneakers _squelched_ in time with his movements. Giving up, he threw a couple of air punches - dramatically emphasized by splattering water droplets - and headed off after Quistis. Hopefully the Trepies would just think he and Quisty were fighting again: it had certainly happened enough in the last couple days to be a believable cover story.  
  
The dormitory hallway was blissfully empty - although Zell winced as he spotted the silhouette of two Garden-issue wall-climbing clamps, marking Quistis' dorm room like a neon sign for everyone to see. Zell grimaced; he really _did_ feel bad about that one. Quistis didn't need any more unreasonable attention because he'd screwed something else up. Although, a wicked part of his brain pointed out, Quistis was probably in need of some _reasonable_ attention - but no, he'd screwed that one up, too. He'd probably blown his one chance at ever making Quistis feel... well, like she'd made him feel. Even through the chill of his soaking-wet clothes, he still felt warm and tingly... _there._ Although the rest of him really was chilly. It would be nice to get Quistis to her door, maybe kiss her goodbye, and then run like hell back to his own dorm room -  
  
A loud bark came from behind him, and Zell jumped; beside him, Quistis stiffened. "Shit," she muttered, reaching frantically for her keycard. Angelo came bounding down the hall towards them; Zell caught one look of the utterly panicked expression on Quistis' face before she swung the door open, shoved him in - she'd forgotten her own strength again; only his good balance kept him from wiping out into a soggy mess on Quistis' dorm carpet - and slammed the door shut.  
  
"Hi, Rinoa," Zell heard through the door as he regained his footing. Quistis' voice sounded tense, and Zell could almost picture the automatic smile she'd put on her face. Quistis was exceptionally good at hiding her own feelings, he knew now. Why hadn't any of their other friends figured it out? He was momentarily distracted by a strange snuffling sound at the door. Curious, he moved a little closer.  
  
"Angelo!" Rinoa's voice was the sharp snap she used when commanding the dog; the sniffing sound continued. "Angelo, get away from the door. I'm sorry, Quisty, I don't know what's gotten into him. We just got back from breakfast and - _Angelo_!" Zell heard a scratching sound at the base of the door, and jumped back a bit as he saw the shadow of a large furry paw. "What are you keeping in there, Moomba treats?"  
  
"I - uh - a life-time supply of good-looking men?" Quistis tried, and Zell snorted in laughter, picturing the look on her face as she said it - she'd have one eyebrow cocked in that way she did when she didn't want you to know if it was a joke. A long thin whine carried under the door, along with a strange _whuffling_ sound, and Zell immediately quenched his laughter - literally, by pressing the soggy sleeve of his jacket to his face.  
  
"That's strange," Rinoa said, and now her voice sounded suspicious. "It looks like he's trying to Angelo Search." _Stupid dog._ Zell clenched his teeth, now faintly terrified of making any sort of noise - Angelo could break _walls_ down if he really wanted to, let alone one standard dormitory door and Zell couldn't think of any good explanation as to why he was crouched soaking-wet inside Quistis' room _without Quistis._ Angelo Search was a pretty impressive trick - unless you were the thing being searched. Zell tensed all his muscles and tried not to _breathe._  
  
Quistis, for the most part, was trying to figure out how in the world to distract Angelo away from what she was sure was a delicious-smelling wet body hidden just inside her door. "Come here, boy," she said, crouching down to pet Angelo behind the ears, just where he liked it. It wasn't until the dog's head turned towards her fingers, sniffing curiously, that she realized _just_ how interesting of a smell that particular hand must have at this particular moment. She resisted the urge to snatch her hand away, instead letting Angelo smell her fingers and trying not to wince badly when he began - _oh, Hyne,_ now Angelo was licking at her fingers. This was _disgusting._ Quistis felt her entire face turn bright red.  
  
"Oh, Angelo, stop saying hello," Rinoa said crossly. "I'm so sorry, Quisty, I just wanted to talk to you, not bother you with my dog and tear down your door." Her gaze drifted to the two clamps permanently embedded in the wall, and Rinoa's eyes widened slightly. "What happened?"  
  
"I had an argument with Zell," Quistis said without thinking, using the opportunity to stand up and put her hand somewhere Angelo couldn't reach it. She settled for her hip. Rinoa's eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity, so she added as a lame joke: "I'm keeping his body in my room." It seemed to work; Rinoa looked slightly surprised at her attempt at humor, but then began to giggle a little bit. _Oh, Rinoa. If only you knew._ "He's slightly chilled, but he'll keep for now," she continued, unable to help herself. Rinoa laughed harder, and Quistis had to bite her lip. Hopefully Zell was listening at the door - at least _somebody_ could get a genuine laugh out of this situation.  
  
"Do you have a minute?" Rinoa asked, finally. "I just - I..." She squared her shoulders. "I took your advice, and I'm going to go apologize to Squall." There was a pause, and her moment of resolve left her as her shoulders slumped in an alarmingly rapid wilt. "I think," she added mournfully.  
  
For what had to be the millionth time in her life, Quistis Trepe mentally damned the fates, her luck, and all nosy Sorceresses. She wished more than anything that she'd locked herself in _with_ Zell: they could be in hiding somewhere. Huddling for warmth. In the shower. With Zell's ambidextrous talents. However, with Angelo on the alert, there was a pretty good chance they would've been 'sniffed out' - and then what? Quistis smiled at Rinoa encouragingly and said, "I think that's the right thing to do." She couldn't resist adding mentally: _So go! Go and do it! Please, for the love of Siren, go find Squall and take your dog with you!_  
  
"I'm going to go in his dorm room," Rinoa confided, "and I'm going to page him from there and ask him to come talk to me. I don't want to go up in his office - I'm afraid he might make a scene. I thought it would be easier to do it in private."  
  
_It usually is easier to do it in private._ Quistis wrenched her mouth a little trying not to let the nervous laughter out. "Mmm-hm," she said noncommittally, edging away from Angelo.  
  
Rinoa started an agitated pace up and down the short stretch of hall before Quistis' room. "I'm just worried that he won't listen to me." Angelo sniffed at Quistis again, and Quistis turned herself slightly to avoid getting the dog's nose directly in her crotch. Angelo shifted with her, seemingly more interested. "I know that I should apologize anyway, but I'm a little afraid that he doesn't care." Quistis stepped away from the door. Angelo followed her. "But I guess..." Rinoa glanced over at her. "If he doesn't listen to me, then it's just not meant to be, right?"  
  
"You're right," Quistis said. _You're right, you're absolutely right, and I'm a panicked hormonal mess right now because I just had my **hand** down Zell's **pants** so please go away!_  
  
"God, thanks for listening," Rinoa said suddenly, throwing her arms around Quistis' neck. Quistis tried to act normal, patting Rinoa on the back with her _other_ hand and doing her best to repress the memory of feeling someone else's warm body pressed against her. Hyne, if she wasn't careful, she'd end up humping Rinoa's leg. No offense to Rinoa - or to Angelo - but Quistis needed to get rid of their company, and fast. Luckily, an idea presented itself.  
  
"Here," Quistis said, pulling away from Rinoa and gently turning the girl until they were both looking down the hall, towards the staircase. "Go on." She accompanied the words with a slight push on Rinoa's lower back, a gesture wildly intended to be inspirational. "Go, before you lose your nerve."  
  
Rinoa whistled sharply, and Angelo came to heel (looking a little disgruntled). "You're right," she said, nodding her head decisively, and she and her dog headed down the hallway.   
  
Quistis watched long enough to be sure that Rinoa wasn't going to suddenly change her mind and turn around, and then _threw_ herself into the dorm room, frantically locking both of the physical locks and mashing the digital-lock keypad for safe measure. Once that was taken care of, she rested her forehead against the door for a second, trying simply to breathe. A hysterical bubble of laughter burst out of her, much to her surprise.  
  
"Uh," Zell said tentatively from behind her, "I kinda dripped on your carpet, Quisty. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be." She turned around, suddenly nervous again. "Rinoa has terrible timing. It isn't your fault." Part of her had been secretly hoping that Zell might, in fact, be shirtless; however, Zell apparently hadn't moved much since she'd thrown him in the room. To his credit, he was barely even shivering, but the faint blue tinge to his lips gave it away.  
  
At her inquisitive glance, Zell shrugged, and stood up from his crouch. "Every time I tried to move, that dog heard me." He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "I was gonna go hide, but..." He glanced around, and Quistis suddenly realized that Zell hadn't really felt comfortable in her dorm room. She'd never made much of a habit of having friends over, anyway; she'd tried to make it very clear to everyone else how she felt about her personal space. That being said, part of her very much wanted Zell to invade her personal space. Right now. Five minutes ago. _Fifteen_ minutes ago, in the Training Center. Quistis shook her head, feeling herself blush again.   
  
"Zell, you're freezing," she said instead - and came to a very abrupt realization. "You're just going to have to shower here."  
  
"What?" Zell's entire face went bright red, and he comically clutched his jacket to himself as if she'd asked him to strip naked and dance the Choco-Polka in the Cafeteria. "I can't do that!"  
  
"You can't go upstairs _now,_ " Quistis pointed out, wincing a little. "I just sent Rinoa up there. And if this is anything like last time, she'll circle the hallways for an hour before she gets the courage to go into Squall's room. What if she sees you? What if _Angelo_ sees you?"  
  
Zell shivered a little. "That dog _knew_ I was here," he said darkly. "Alright then, maybe I just don't need to shower." Then he made the mistake of glancing back up at Quistis and remembering exactly _why_ he'd needed the shower in the first place. "Uh... okay, maybe I do. But I can't shower here!"  
  
"Of course you can," Quistis said, heading decisively to the back of her dorm room and digging through her closet for a fresh towel. "It isn't really a problem." Unfortunately, house guests were not a regular occurrence in Quistis' private quarters, and the only spare towel she had at the moment was the rather small standard Garden issue workout cloth she'd accidentally misappropriated from the gym. Chalk up one more reason that the date with James had been a terrible idea - she hadn't even been able to do her weekly laundry. She tried to picture Zell in one of her big bushy rose-colored towels (she and Selphie had ended up in a huge argument about whether the towels were _pink_ \- which Quistis hated - or _rose_ , which she found acceptably un-girly), and abruptly made the decision when her mind pictured Zell with the tiny workout towel around his waist and nothing else. _Right,_ she thought, standing up. _Garden towel it is._ "Here you go!" she proclaimed, holding the towel up triumphantly. Zell's eyes bulged.  
  
"No way! I can't, Quisty!" Zell exclaimed hastily. The thought of being naked in Quistis' dorm room was exciting - and _terrifying._ It was one of those things that a week ago he would've _joked_ about - being naked with Quistis - but now, that the invitation was actually here... "I can just run up to mine, it's not a big deal, people'll just think I did somethin' stupid again -"  
  
"Angelo," Quistis warned him. Zell swore, his eyes widening.  
  
"And if you hand me your wet clothes," Quistis added, throwing the towel in Zell's general direction and hastily closing the door to her bedroom, "I bet I can figure out a way to dry them for you with Fire Breath."  
  
Zell's eyes grew even _wider._ "But what if you _burn them?_ " he squeaked out. "I'd have to walk home _naked!_ " Not that such a thing hadn't happened before, but he hadn't liked it much _then,_ either.  
  
"Alright," Quistis conceded. "White Wind, then. Anyway, you need to get out of those clothes before..." _Before I remove them from your body,_ her brain supplied. "Before you catch a chill," she said aloud, instead.  
  
Zell was still standing there, staring at her awkwardly. Quistis took a mental step back. She'd really been looking at it from a more practical standpoint: Zell needed a shower, he needed to warm up, and since she'd just actually had her hands on his, er, manly bits, that took care of the propriety issues - in her brain. But in reality, one messy fumbling make-out session in the Training Center didn't mean that they were actually _dating_. Or did it? Her brain had timed out at the simultaneous thoughts of warming Zell up in the shower. Maybe if she offered to join him, he'd be more likely to do it? Was Zell being _shy?_ He certainly hadn't been shy with her in the Training Center -  
  
"Look at it this way," she said, mostly trying to convince herself. "We still need to work out the details of our mission. You can go clean up, I'll dry your clothes off, and hopefully we can finish our discussion." Although it wasn't the _discussion_ she was interested in continuing. Quistis tried not to blush, and failed. Her entire body was _throbbing_ and she couldn't help but think that maybe it would have been easier to send Zell back up to his dorm room in the first place. Knowing that Zell was in her shower, _wet and naked_ , was - well, it was going to take a severe amount of restraint to respect his privacy.  
  
"Quisty," Zell said reluctantly. Something wasn't quite right with the way Quistis was looking at him. She was eyeing him as if she wanted something - which, knowing Quistis, was probably to talk about the mission. "You okay?"  
  
Quistis' shoulders sagged. "I screwed up," she said, glancing away - a little surprised at the ease with which the apology rolled from her tongue. "I'm sorry. I panicked. I just wanted Rinoa and Angelo to go away so that I didn't get you in any..." What was the right word to use here? Trouble? Did it make any sense to be concerned about Zell's public image when he'd just been groping her in the TC? "Anyway," she finished lamely. "If you don't feel right being here, I'm not about to force you to stay."  
  
Zell shook his head. Quistis looked really tense and a little confused. Personally Zell felt a little confused, too; he wasn't exactly sure how everything had taken such a turn for the _bizarre and weird,_ but he knew one thing: he wouldn't take this day back for the _world._ He wasn't really sure what to do with Quisty, but a hug had worked well before, right? He took a couple steps forward and reached out; hugging her now - while he was soaked and filthy - wouldn't really be helpful. He took her hand in his, and squeezed.  
  
"I ain't tryin' to bail on you, Quisty," he said slowly, trying to figure out what was the right thing to say - what would make that strange need in her eyes go away. "I just don't want you to think..." Think what? That after what had happened in the TC, they were officially a couple, and this was the end of all this not-dating nonsense? Well, to be honest, that was _exactly_ what Zell wanted her to think, but that was beside the point. He sighed in defeat. "Why don't I just go shower, an' we can talk later."  
  
Something relaxed in Quistis' face, and she squeezed his hand back, but her eyes still seemed a little tense and expectant. Admittedly, Zell didn't really know what else to do. "Here," he said, handing her his jacket. "Just don't wreck it," he tried joking. "That's my lucky foosball jacket."  
  
Quistis took it carefully and eyed it as Zell headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Something in her still felt all knotted up, and she knew exactly what it was - the throbbing between her thighs that was making it hard to concentrate on basic speech. She opened the door to her bedroom, her gaze falling on her still-unmade bed. The rumpled sheets reminded her of her own legs, twisting, as her fingers explored - _no,_ she thought, and turned away. Bobo sat beside her pillow, looking at her: now he looked a little forlorn, a little disappointed. Something told Quistis that it was ridiculous to be projecting her own emotions onto Zell's stuffed chocobo plushy. She fisted the jacket in frustration. A glance over her shoulder told her that the bathroom door was still tightly closed; she ran one thumb carefully down her breast, caressing her nipple through the fabric of her top, picturing Zell's face as she'd pulled that zipper open, the look in his eyes as he'd run his thumb over her nipple. Slowly, she unzipped her top up past her bra, careful not to make too much noise, sliding her fingers inside. She rubbed in small, cautious circles, wondering whether her own hands would ever be able to feel like Zell's. The warm feeling in her belly intensified; she let her fingers travel down a little, over her stomach. They stopped at her skirt. Quistis slowly pulled her hand away, deliberately placing it on top of the other hand, which was still holding Zell's jacket in a white-knuckled grasp. She was _not_ going to do - that - while Zell was in her bathroom.  
  
Jacket. The jacket. She could at least _use_ some of this frustration to access her Limit Break, if nothing else. She closed her eyes, tightened her grip on the jacket, and called up White Wind. The healing spells were usually warm, and she felt the light rush of heat as the wind ran through her like a circuit and into the room, but it wasn't enough. She tried again, tensing her shoulders, but there just wasn't enough. It wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough. Quistis opened her eyes, threw the jacket across the room, and let loose a loud and desperate round of Gatling Gun, taking a strange amount of satisfaction from the neat line of holes which appeared in her pristine, perfect, _bland_ dorm wall. She repeated it - _POW! POW! POW!_ \- letting the sexual tension run through her, feeling her nails digging into her palms as she just couldn't get there - this was _insane,_ she was throwing a _tantrum_ like a _child_ -  
  
The sound of gunshots from Quistis' bedroom made Zell drop his pants, literally, into the sink - where he'd been trying to remove the mess from earlier before handing them over to Quistis - and run out of the bathroom with nothing on but the cheap-ass Garden towel around his waist. His first thought was that Quistis had _completely lost it,_ but even as he dove into her bedroom she seemed to be coming out of her Limit and back to her normal self. His second thought was a very irrational sense of jealousy, directed at the chocobo plushy, now lying somewhat upside-down next to Quisty's pillow. The glance at the plush toy calmed him down, even as Quistis turned around and stared at him. Her face was pink and she seemed at an absolute complete loss for words.  
  
"I didn't dry your jacket," she began, her voice low and husky despite everything, and then Zell noticed her top - or, really, to be honest, her breasts. Namely, the fact that they were visible. Somehow her top had unzipped itself. Huh. Maybe he _did_ have psychic powers. He realized he was staring and glanced upwards at her face - she turned even redder, looking completely mortified, and whether it was his newfound sense of intuition around Quisty or the fact that he really was thinking with his 'lower brain', Zell finally realized what was going on. He'd left Quisty hanging... and in a fairly bad way, too. So it _did_ happen to girls. Zell found that he was a little - touched? proud? to have gotten Quistis Trepe so riled up that she'd kind of exploded in her own bedroom. Him. Zell Dincht. It was a beautiful and terrifying thought. He felt - well, nervous, perhaps, was the best word... but also, Zell realized suddenly, excited.  
  
This wasn't about 'scoring' with some girl, or getting 'experience', or any of the dirty jokes Irvine made during guy's-night-out. This was _Quistis_. And Zell wondered - hesitant, but with real interest behind it - whether he could make Quisty feel as good. Whether she'd let him. The thought of touching Quistis was even more exciting than the thought of Quistis touching _him_ \- which was saying something, because Quistis touching him had been the most exciting thing to happen possibly in his entire life.  
  
Quistis watched, frozen, as Zell's eyes flicked down into her cleavage and then back up to her face. Hyne, he'd caught her _fondling_ herself. While holding his jacket. If there was ever a moment in her life that she wanted to die of sheer embarrassment, this was it. However, Zell's gaze didn't hold any of the disgust or rejection she'd expected. In fact, he looked... curious? A little apologetic? "What?" she said, trying to sound mean and aloof but really just sounding insecure and defensive.   
  
Zell took two decisive steps across the room and lowered his mouth to hers. Quistis responded almost instantly, her entire body crying out _Hyne, yes_ as she mashed her lips against Zell's, opening her mouth eagerly. His shoulders were deliciously bare, and this time nothing was preventing her from spreading her fingers across them. She let her hands explore the broad expanse of his back hungrily; his skin was cool and slightly damp to her touch, but his lips and tongue were so warm they burned. Heat was radiating from his chest; she could feel it soaking directly into her exposed skin. Impatiently, Quistis jerked her head away from him, pulling at her zippered top and ripping it away from her chest when it snagged. Zell ducked his head after her, chasing her lips and making the movements difficult.  
  
"Zell," Quistis ground out, turning her head away from him as she fumbled with the clasp of her bra. Undaunted, he ignored her and latched onto an earlobe, sucking it. Growing irritated, mostly at the fact that she was still wearing an excess of clothing, Quistis turned her head again and inhaled, ostensibly to demand that he give her the space to undress herself properly. Zell chased down her words with a heated kiss before she could even form them. No longer shy, his tongue pushed into her mouth insistently, and vaguely Quistis realized that he was _done_ with giving her space. He pushed against her, driving her back a few steps in a parody of their earlier encounter in the Training Center, and stopped only when her back bumped against her dresser, causing her various bottles and accoutrements there to rattle noisily. The sharp angle of the furniture was digging into her back, but Quistis barely noticed because Zell was busy occupying his own hands with the task of removing her bra. He wasn't very good at it, she noted fondly, and broke away from his mouth once more to suck in some air.  
  
"It's a hook," she wheezed breathlessly before grabbing the back of his head and returning his kiss. This time she allowed a leg to reach around his calf, propping herself up and using both his own body and the dresser to grind herself against him. _Hyne,_ it felt good, but not nearly good enough. Dimly she noted that Zell had successfully managed to loosen the fastenings on her bra; somewhere along the way, he'd lost his towel. He was still burying his face into the hollow of her throat as she arched her neck back, stretching, reaching -  
  
"Quisty," he mumbled, exhaling heavily as his hands stroked down the bare sides of her ribs, over and over as if to soothe her. She wondered if he realized that his touch was having the opposite effect; in any regard, she didn't want to be _soothed._ Grunting in protest, she pressed herself against him, but his hands tightened and he pulled her back slowly. He was breathing heavily, and his blue eyes were coloring dark from the size of his pupils - probably matching her own, she managed to think.  
  
What was he waiting for? "Zell, _please_ , it's okay," she managed to grit out, tightening the clutch of her leg around his for good measure. "Why in Hyne's name are you stopping _now?_ " Her eyes shimmered, warning him just how close she was to ripping off yet another Limit Break.  
  
"I know," he told her with a boyish smile, and the very sight of him, grinning wildly, his eyes alight with that feverish gleam - the one he usually only got when attempting one of his death-defying stunts on his T-board, the one he used to have when talking about that girl from the Library, the one he was directing at her, and _only_ her now, made something heavy curl low in Quistis' belly, transforming itself into a liquid heat. She craned her neck and dove after his lips, but this time he used his reflexes to duck back from her, teasingly, and she almost audibly growled her frustration.  
  
"Shh," he told her, planting a lightning-quick kiss on her nose, and Quistis found her eyes glued to the shape of his lips. She had to stop herself from asking him to repeat himself just so she could see his lips purse together so sensually. She wanted to taste him; it was quickly becoming her number one priority. He ducked his head back again when she leaned forward a second time and shot her another grin, this time gently pulling her away from the dresser, his arms wrapping around her waist.  
  
Quistis let her leg fall away from him reluctantly; a very naked Zell was standing in her room, embracing her, and she hadn't even taken off her _shoes_ yet. She flushed faintly in embarrassment, but Zell's unnervingly focused, intense grin never wavered. Unable to help herself, Quistis let her eyes travel downwards, savoring the sight of Zell's impressive musculature. He worked out regularly, that much anyone could tell even _with_ his clothes on. She took the time now, however, to appreciate the beauty of each sharply defined muscle as they stood out in high definition under his smooth, pale skin. She let her fingers trace across his pectorals and then trail down each ridge in his abdomen, which quivered under her feather-light touch. She glanced up as she neared his navel, looking to make sure she wasn't scaring him with her close scrutiny. His grin had faded somewhat, but the burning emotion that flickered behind his eyes remained, urging her to go on.  
  
Her fingers continued their slow path of exploration, sweeping down along the line of his hips and into the wiry shock of curls dusting his pelvis. She allowed herself a quick glance downward, following her fingers through the pale hair - it wasn't as blond as Zell's gravity-defying bangs, but it was close. As her fingers drew closer to the base of Zell's limp cock, fully intending to repeat what they'd done earlier, Zell drew away slightly. Quistis looked up into his face, exhaling her confusion in a quick puff of breath. His gaze was intense, and Quistis wondered what she was doing wrong; Zell had certainly responded to her touch earlier, but he didn't seem to be... _responding,_ now.   
  
But then Zell reached out to brush her shoulder with his own fingers, and the look in his eyes deepened slightly, and Quistis' fears seemed to vanish as he ran his hand along her collarbone, sliding the strap of her bra slowly off her shoulder and down her arm. Zell's touch wasn't shy and feather-light; his fingers were strong and smooth, and while his face may have still seemed a little hesitant, his motions and his grin confidently told her, _yeah, I know what I want._ He lifted his other hand, pulling her bra strap off her other shoulder - slowly - and bent to place a kiss where the strap had been. The feel of Zell's lips on her neck and the soft fabric sliding against her skin gave her goose bumps, and Quistis looked back up again as the simple black fabric fell to the floor. The cool air of the room on her exposed breasts was a slight shock, and she stepped in closer to Zell, wanting to feel his warmth against her newly bare body.   
  
"Quisty," Zell whispered, his fingers now playing at the hem of her skirt and sending delicious shivers into the tightness of her groin. Quistis placed her arms around Zell's neck, tired of waiting for his lips on hers; she buried one hand in his slightly damp hair, wanting to tilt his head downward and - slightly wet? Oh, yes, right, the fountain. She paused, the thought of the murky water fighting for importance through the clouded haze of her need. Zell's fingers had moved around to the back of her skirt, where they were pleasantly distracting her by running along the bare skin above her belt. Every time his fingers brushed against the small of her back, she could feel tingles running throughout her body.   
  
Zell leaned forward slightly, his lips parting; "Quisty," he said again, but then another idea struck him. He hooked his fingers into the hem of the skirt and tugged a little. He'd hoped Quistis would understand it was an invitation to follow him, namely into the shower; however, Quistis Trepe had never been much of a follower, and the wild look on her face made it obvious that she had heard a very different sort of invitation. Without hesitation, Quistis reached down to unfasten the black leather belt on her skirt, and before the cautious and rule-following part of her brain could catch up with her, let the garment slide to the floor. She stepped out of it carefully, resting one hand on the doorframe for balance, so self-conscious that she was unable to meet Zell's gaze.   
  
Zell let his eyes roam the newly exposed territory for a moment, because he didn't really think his brain was capable of forming a fully coherent thought. The only thing hiding her from his eyes were the thin, boy-cut briefs that rode low on her hips (and, as he could catch tantalizing glimpses of, high on her ass) and her knee-high heeled leather boots. For a brief moment a fantasy of her holding her whip at the ready in those clothes flashed through his mind, and his mouth went a little dry. He wondered if she realized just how sexy she looked; the shy blush on her cheeks told him otherwise. Still, as much as he was enjoying his unexpected jaunt into fantasy, this wasn't the time or the place for joking around. Quistis' fragile self-confidence was demanding his full attention, and he was more than ready to give it.   
  
"Those boots are hot, Quisty," he murmured, "but we can leave 'em on later, right?" Zell's tone was so hopeful that Quistis momentarily forgot her embarrassment and had to bite back a smile as she bent down to remove her footwear.  
  
His eyes followed the sweep of Quistis' blond hair curving downward to rest on top of her breasts, her rosy nipples already slightly hard from the chill of the room. From there his eyes devoured the creamy skin of her stomach. He actually reached out and traced the long line of another pale scar, and Quistis shivered slightly, although she still wasn't looking directly at him. The scar stopped, unfortunately, at the ribbony edge of her simple black panties. He toyed with the waistband of it, watching the expression on her face; her eyes were half-lidded, her lips slightly parted, and every now and then some muscle in her face would jump slightly as his fingers changed direction.   
  
Just watching Quistis' face, already so out of control, was almost terrifyingly hot. It was a shame that he smelled like the sewer waste that Balamb Garden called a fountain. Zell knew it was only a matter of time before Quistis noticed the distinct eau-de-pond-scum clinging to his skin; he was honestly surprised that she hadn't commented on it yet. Perhaps that was a sign of just how badly distracted she was - which was a good thing. Zell also knew harder than he'd known anything in his life that he wasn't going to pass up this particular chance. If it meant Quistis had to come in the shower with him, then so be it. He slipped his fingers beneath the top edge of her black panties and slid them down over her hips, releasing them and letting them fall to the floor.  
  
Quistis pressed herself up against him almost instantly, and for a moment Zell's brain clouded over at the sheer amount of skin-on-skin: her breasts pressed against his chest, the warmth of his groin against her belly and the soft patch of hair rubbing against his thigh. "Quisty," he said reluctantly, closing his eyes - because if he could see her - "Quisty, for real, I smell like a garbage dump, you don't wanna be touchin' me right now -"   
  
"Oh yes I do," Quistis murmured, but she backed away slightly, her face turning a little pink. "But - er," she said, "you're right. A shower is probably... a good idea." Now the note of disappointment was clear in her voice, and Zell had to hide his own grin.

"Actually," he said, his eyes popping open and sparkling with mischief as he reached for her. Quistis yelped in surprise when he suddenly enveloped her in a rough, full-body hug, even going so far as to lift her off of the floor and jump up and down. Not that she wasn't all for even more naked full-body contact with Zell, but _this_ was hardly what she was expecting from his heady ministrations of only moments ago.   
  
"What the hell are you _doing?_ " she yelled, slapping at his chest with the limited movement she could manage from her arms. Zell set her back on the floor gently, but refused to give up his tight hold, the grin still plastered over his face. Instead, he began to drag her insistently towards the shower cabin.  
  
"Oops, looks like I got you covered in all this shit, huh? Guess you're just gonna have to come with."  
  
Quistis' flustered expression of annoyance died a quick, almost comical death as her eyes widened. "You want me to _shower_ with you?" she asked incredulously. "Have you seen the size of my shower?"  
  
Zell tossed a quick look over his shoulder and reached back, fumbling with the door of the cabin. It swung open, and he eyed the shower - most obviously meant for one - curiously. "Looks perfect," he decided, dragging her in with him. It was a pretty tight fit, but almost immediately Quistis understood that this was not necessarily a _bad_ thing. She came to this realization as she smoothed her hands over his chest, acutely aware of just how closely she was pressed up against Zell's body. He reached underneath her arm, carefully maneuvering them both around until he could reach the knobs of the shower. A sudden blast of icy cold water drenched them both, but with a muffled curse and more fidgeting, Zell managed to turn the stream of water into a warm, comfortable curtain. They both remained still for a few moments, listening to the sound of each other's breathing mingle with the soft hiss of the falling water. Finally Quistis shifted, reaching upwards to push away Zell's soaked bangs. He blinked, shaking a few water droplets off, and gave her a tentative smile.  
  
Quistis reached over his shoulder and grabbed her body wash, squeezing a generous amount into her palm. "Close your eyes," she instructed him, and when he complied, she gently massaged the soap into his scalp, building up a thick lather. She worked slowly, pulling her fingers through his short hair from the base of his neck and moving outwards towards its spiked, uneven ends. Quistis felt the tension slowly leaking out of Zell's body and smiled to herself. It was a little surprising: there was a small part of her waiting expectantly for the overwhelming feeling of awkwardness, the humiliating realization that she was completely naked in front of a man who had barely been a friend a month ago, something or anything that could interrupt the surprising comfort of the situation. Quistis was used to this particular feeling, waiting for the inevitable crash of disappointment that seemed to plague her life. But for some reason, there was nothing awkward yet; no looming sense of panic telling her to run. Only a sense of... welcome anticipation. Flushing from the thought, Quistis focused on rinsing Zell's hair carefully. She slicked his freshly-washed bangs away from his face.   
  
Zell let out a small sigh as she finished her ministrations, then pushed away from her, watching intently as she lathered up her pouf with more soap. He continued to watch her closely as she began to sponge his body off, beginning at his neck. She traced over the contours of his chest carefully, trying to memorize each curve. There wasn't much room to maneuver in the cramped shower; after a moment of hesitation, Zell reached up and planted his hands onto the wall above her head. Quistis took the opportunity to crouch down, dragging the pouf along the edge of his hip and down his thigh. She paid special attention to the tight line of muscle over his butt; Zell really did have the finest ass she'd ever seen. She noted, however, with more than a little disappointment that no amount of gentle swabbing seemed to be rousing any kind of response in the one area of his body she was most interested in at that particular moment. His cock lay flaccid despite her attempts to coax a response out of him. What was she doing wrong? Finally giving up, Quistis let out a small sigh of disappointment and stood, allowing Zell to rinse away the remains of the soap. "I'm done," she said, reaching underneath Zell's arm to deposit the small pouf back onto its hook against the wall. Her motion was arrested by his fingers; he gripped her hand gently, freeing the soapy pouf from her grasp.  
  
"I ain't," he replied, turning her around to face the wall. Almost reverently, he scooped her hair away from her neck and began to massage the soap into her shoulders. Quistis inhaled sharply at his unexpected massage; he followed the lazy circles he was tracing over her back with the flat of his hand. She bit her lip and held back a throaty sigh; the contrast of the almost-rough texture of the poof was mingling deliciously with the water-slicked smoothness of his palm. His fingers would flex and knead into her flesh occasionally, drawing a shiver from her as he traced down her back. She tensed as he lightly swabbed the pouf over the line of her buttocks; lower, _lower,_ she hissed to herself.  
  
"Okay," Zell murmured to her, and with a jolt, Quistis realized she'd spoken aloud. But that was pushed from her mind quickly; he'd fumbled and dropped the pouf when she spoke, but his hand continued its slow journey downwards even as he pushed her against the shower wall. She widened her stance almost unconsciously as Zell's fingers traveled lower, slipping between her spread legs and cautiously, almost shyly skimming across the thatch of curls shielding her from his touch. Impatiently, Quistis wriggled her hips, trying to press herself against his outspread fingers, which were so _maddeningly_ near - what was he waiting for?  
  
"Uhh... Quisty... you sure you want me to... y'know..." He paused, swallowing, and she could almost feel the nervousness radiating off of him. "Umm... touch you there?"  
  
 _No, Zell, I want you to do more than just touch me, much more,_ she wanted to snap at him, but reigned in her impatience and temper as she realized that his hesitation was the result of inexperience rather than a lack of motivation. Zell needed guidance and reassurance, she thought dimly. What he needed was an instructor. Resting her cheek against the cool tile of the shower, Quistis let out a low chuckle.  
  
"Just follow your instincts," she said firmly, looking over her shoulder to give him an encouraging smile. "I'll help you through the rest."  
  
Carefully, Zell cupped her with one hand; his other hovered uncertainly over her lower back. She felt softer than he'd imagined; he flexed his fingers and was almost surprised by the heat she was radiating. Cautiously, he traced the outline of her lips with his index finger and almost jerked away when she responded with a soft, breathy moan. He traced her again, with more confidence this time, and then boldly allowed his index finger to run down the line of her slit. Abruptly Zell jerked away when he realized that the heat he was feeling from Quistis' body actually _was_ liquid; thick, slightly sticky and scented with a strange, foreign musk. Curious, Zell withdrew his hand and lifted it upwards, careful not to let the drizzle of water from the shower wash away the evidence of her arousal. He brought his fingers to his nose, sniffing them thoughtfully while Quistis watched him with half-lidded eyes. Taken by a sudden whim, Zell stuck out his tongue and gave his fingers a quick lick; _so that's what Quistis tastes like,_ he thought faintly as the pungent flavor spread through his mouth. His action brought a low moan out of Quistis, who was still observing him; suddenly, he wanted more.   
  
Circling her waist with one arm, Zell returned his hand to its former position between Quistis' thighs and palmed her. With his other arm he pulled her torso away from the wall even as he pressed the rest of his body against her. She seemed to have liked it before when he touched her breast; encouraged by the memory of her response then, Zell dragged his thumb over her nipple, watching over her shoulder as it pebbled into a hard bud under each stroke.  
  
Quistis sucked in her breath sharply. She pressed her palms against the tiles and leant back against Zell's body, trying to give his hand more room to play. She felt him fumbling to thrust his fingers between her folds; even clumsy as he was, however, she could barely bring herself to speak. Zell was obviously quite clueless about the workings of the female body; had he known any better, he might have tried to be gentler, or at the very least sought out the tiny bundle of nerves that would ensure her pleasure before trying to delve his fingers inside of her. Still, she couldn't say she was complaining; somehow, in his attempt to position his one hand on her breast while his other was between her legs, he'd shoved her roughly against the hard tile of the shower wall. With the way he was pressing against her insistently, he was creating a delicious, if completely unintended, friction against her clit. Moaning softly, Quistis spread her legs a little wider and was rewarded by the feeling of his finger sinking into her deeply. _"Ohh,"_ she breathed in surprise, and Zell froze.  
  
"I - I didn't hurt ya, did I?" he asked, panicking, and tried to withdraw. Quistis snarled at him in response.  
  
"Don't. Move!"  
  
Zell froze again, his face flushing.  
  
After catching her breath, Quistis let her eyes flutter open and gave Zell an amused, if somewhat unfocused, glance. "No, you didn't hurt me," she managed to say. "But..." she flinched as the finger buried inside of her twitched. "You don't just... drive in hard," she mumbled, fumbling for coherence despite the fact that she could feel herself pulsing with need. His finger flexed again, and Quistis let out a low hiss. "Slowly," she grit out. "And gently. Women are... _sensitive,_ there."  
  
Zell began to move his finger in cautious, shallow thrusts inside of her; when she didn't complain, he sped up. But now, Quistis noticed with some disappointment, he was no longer mashing her against the wall, allowing her to concentrate fully on the motion of his fingers. Which was perhaps a good thing, she thought as she winced again, this time with a little discomfort. "Zell," she said warningly, and the frantic movement of his hand slowed. "Not so fast. And not so deep," she added, letting out a small sigh of relief as he completely withdrew the offending digit.  
  
"Uh, but... ain't that what girls are always tellin' guys to do?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Y'know, all that _harder_ and _faster_ stuff...?"  
  
Quistis wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. Why exactly was she having this conversation with Zell again, when he was literally a knuckle's length away from fucking her? Did she want that? _Yes,_ every nerve in her body replied. Steeling herself, she grit her teeth and tried to formulate an answer. "Sadly, Zell, real girls aren't made like the Girls Next Door. It's not always about going as _hard_ or as _fast_ as you can. Especially not the first time," she added. "Not unless you want someone to end up getting hurt." The tone of Quistis' voice clearly suggested that _she_ wasn't necessarily going to be the victim.  
  
Zell, however, had frozen, again. "First time? Y'mean, I'm really..." He sounded truly and completely shocked.  
  
Quistis let out another soft sigh. "Yes, Zell, I think I'd know," she said quietly. Then she sucked in her breath as she felt him lean in towards her. She was surprised when he began to kiss her gently, and she could feel his lips shaping into an irrepressible grin against her shoulder as he did.  
  
"Tell me what to do, Quisty," he whispered to her, and this time he was unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice. Quistis found herself smiling in response, and bit back a moan when he dragged his finger over the cleft between her legs. She shuddered against him and forced herself to relax.  
  
"Two," she whispered, feeling very clearly what was missing from Zell's cautious touches. "Use two fingers..." She bit back a moan when he eagerly complied, this time stroking her with both fingers, still not daring to penetrate past the outer folds of her lips. Even so, the soft, promising caresses he was torturing her with were enough to send tendrils of desire spiking through her abdomen.  
  
"Like this?" Zell was asking her.  
  
"Hmm? Oh yes," Quistis murmured, distracted by the gentle rhythm his slowly sweeping fingers were setting. "You can go deeper," she added, lowering herself against his palm for emphasis.  
  
The tip of one finger slipped into her tentatively, eased by the slickness already coating both his hand and the inside of her thighs. She nearly moaned in relief at the sensation of him cautiously stretching her and resisted the urge to grind herself against his wrist. "Deeper," she managed to choke out when the finger stopped.  
  
The sound of Zell's heavy breaths echoed in her ear more loudly than the hiss of the falling water. "But... it sounded like I -"  
  
"It didn't _all_ hurt," Quistis quickly corrected him. Unable to bear the strain of waiting, she shifted her hips slightly, forcing his finger to sink inside fully. "It feels good," she whispered, arching her back against his chest as she rocked against him. Unconsciously following her movements, he let his hand curl into her until his palm was resting flush against her skin, and his thumb, _oh god, his thumb,_ was pressing dangerously close to her clit, which was all but screaming for more attention. "Move your thumb," she managed to hiss out, shifting her hips against his cupped hand, and he finally did.  
  
_"_ Oh, _Hyne,"_ groaned Quistis in response, her eyes closing.  
  
"Oh, Hyne," repeated Zell, sounding vaguely surprised and a little astonished. If there was one thing to say in his favor, it was that he was a quick study, and very soon his thumb was tracing slick, uneven lines back-and-forth atop her clit, sending jolts of electric heat through her pelvis. His touch was a little hard, but he was moving slowly enough that she could bear the heavy intensity. Her muscles tightened, and Quistis leaned her head back onto Zell's shoulder. His finger had slowed to a slow, unsteady pressure inside her, and his thumb continued its relentless twitching against her sensitive nub. A heavy heat was growing slowly from her loins, and all Quistis really knew was that she wanted more. Never mind her hasty words to Zell - her body _was_ crying out for more, harder, _deeper -_  
  
The motion slowed, and Quistis' hips bucked against his hand before she knew what she was doing. "Zell?" she managed to say, feeling his body moving slightly behind her. His still hand brushed against her clit again as he shifted his position, and it was all she could do to not jerk in surprise. But then she felt Zell's _other_ hand slowly sliding down her wet stomach and towards the pool of warmth between her thighs. It stopped right above the small patch of hair.  
  
"Quisty, can I... would that be... good?" he murmured in her ear, his hand still applying pressure against her.  
  
"Yes," Quistis gasped, imagining it - no, _fuck_ imagining, she told herself. This was _happening._ It was better than imagining. _"Yes."_  
  
Zell tentatively began moving his hand again, slowly pumping his finger inside her, not hard and fast like before - this time he was slower, and more deliberate. Quistis felt the muscles of her abdomen clench up in a slightly dazed motion - but then Zell's other fingers began a slow tingling descent towards the knot of heat, and Quistis closed her eyes, overcome by even this simple sensation. One hand brushed up against her lips, lightly, while he continued the steady motion with his other. Even the faint sensation of pressure near her clit was enough to make her moan out loud.  
  
Encouraged by the sound, Zell pressed a little harder, letting his index finger slip through her in search of the small fold which had coaxed that amazing sound out of Quisty last time. He was crouched uncomfortably behind Quistis to give both of his hands access, and while the angle was a little awkward, the low panting sound Quisty was making was worth the mild burn in his thigh muscles. He fumbled blindly through the slick area, listening closely for some kind of reaction from Quistis. She was breathing hard, in his ear, her hips gently following every movement of his left hand. His right continued to rub, moving around, searching for something that would make her feel -  
  
 _"Oh,"_ Quistis moaned.  
  
"Is that good?" Zell asked, feeling the hard nub of flesh underneath his finger. He made a small circle on it, almost tentatively, and froze as Quistis' entire body jerked against his. His hand almost slipped away from her, and he paused in panic, looking down at her clenched eyes and flushed face. He must have done something wrong again, because -  
  
"Don't stop," Quistis pleaded.  
  
Surprised, Zell leaned in, carefully. "You sure?" he asked, incredulous, lightly circling the spot with his finger once again. "Is this - good?"  
  
_Is this good?_ Quistis could have laughed. Zell's fingers were lightly caressing her clit now, his touch no longer heavy and bruising. Waves of hot pleasure rippled through her thighs; she was inordinately glad of his strong solid body behind her. She wasn't sure whether she'd be able to stand on her own. Zell's fingers on her - _in_ her - felt so different than her own. The touch of both of his hands was unbearably good; even with his strong fingers fumbling against her and his hesitant movements, it was so much better than anything she'd ever done to herself, anything she'd ever thought about. _Hyne,_ Quistis thought a little hysterically. _Ambidextrous is an understatement._ "Yes, Zell," she choked out. "Please don't stop."  
  
"It's good?" he asked huskily, pumping his finger into her a little harder, as if claiming her with his hands and his words - Quistis could feel the heat building as his finger stretched her further - "You like it?" The sound of his voice was a cool salve against the insistent pressure his motions were creating, grounding her to him just as much as his arms were.  
  
The added tension was building in her, the tingling heat now running up her spine. Zell's finger slipped from her clit, but before she could even gasp in frustration he'd found it again, murmuring something against her neck. He seemed to want words. "Yes," she gasped, and was surprised at the raw _need_ in her own voice. "Yes, Zell, please." His fingers worked at her, relentlessly driving her forward, fanning the small waves of pleasure into longer spasms of need. The rhythm wasn't steady, but that didn't even matter; this wasn't a perfect daydream, this was reality: _Zell, Zell - ah - Zell..._ All she could think about was how explosively close she was, how unbelievably tense her muscles were, how badly she was turned on by this and how nothing would really ever be the same again -   
  
"Hyne, you are so hot," Zell murmured against her neck, unaware that he was even speaking out loud. His finger slipped a bit, plunging deeper than he'd really intended, but Quistis gave him a loud moan in response, so he continued. Her breathing had turned into short, sharp gasps, some of which sounded intermittently like his name, others like words he'd certainly never heard Quistis say in polite conversation. He started to wonder whether he should be doing anything different; Irvine'd always said girls were _hard,_ and so far this had been _easy_ , just like learning a new way to put his hands in Booya or something. "Quisty, should I -"  
  
"No!" Quistis said hastily; "just - keep - please -" The curling heat was so intense she could barely think, the sensation of Zell's fingers unsteadily getting her closer and closer to the release she was so desperately craving.  
  
"Okay," Zell whispered into her neck, and Quistis lost it.  
  
"I-" was all she really had time to cry out before the knot between her thighs burst. Her abdomen muscles shuddered around the pulsing tightness inside her as she pressed her clit against Zell's hand. The heat erupted into flames of intense pleasure as the orgasm hit her, _hard._ Quistis felt her knees give out, and Zell's hands pulled away from her to catch her; the brushing of his hands and fingers against her throbbing clit as he withdrew from her sent her off into an audible cry and another shudder.  
  
She felt the waves of heat slowly subside and realized that Zell was holding her, pressing her tightly against his chest. Her skin was tingling, over-sensitized, and gradually Quistis realized she was still being pelted mercilessly by droplets of lukewarm water. Fighting against the lethargic haze that was threatening to overtake her, she twisted and reached for the knob of the shower, shutting off the stream of water. As she settled back against Zell's chest, Quistis took the opportunity to enjoy the feel of his firm muscles even as she tried to come to grips with her first truly _satisfying_ orgasm.  
  
 _So this is what Rinoa and Selphie were always going on about,_ she thought lazily as she watched a droplet of condensed steam trickle down along the tiled wall. Nothing had changed - the world was still moving forward beyond those shower walls, students coming and going, missions being assigned, classes being taught. Just another ordinary day at Balamb, its residents steadily keeping pace to the rhythm of their military life. And yet somehow, fundamentally, _everything_ had changed within the space of one short morning. Quistis blinked, watching the pearl of water finally succumb to gravity and shatter against the shower floor. She didn't feel like a cog in Garden's machinery today; she felt like a _person._ A living, breathing, achingly real flesh and blood woman.  
  
Zell shifted behind her, his hands lightly rubbing her arms. Quistis closed her eyes and tried her hardest to store this moment in her mind, knowing that this blissful sense of self wouldn't last forever. The analyzing, the over-thinking - those would come later. For now, she simply rested against Zell and breathed.  
  
Zell, for his part, was trying his hardest not to say something ridiculous, like "Wow." It wasn't easy to stand naked in a shower with a post-orgasmic Quistis Trepe and feel anything other than a little incredulous. Well, there _was_ one other thing he was feeling. Zell shifted a little again, trying to keep Quistis' warm body pressed against him without feeling like his slowly-growing stiffy was going to poke her in the back. He couldn't imagine that would be comfortable for _either_ of them. And Quistis certainly looked comfortable; he'd never noticed how tense her face could be until now, when all that tension was gone. He tightened his arms around her in a rough hug, claiming her for his own.  
  
But the part of his wet body that didn't have a warm Quistis pressed against it was beginning to cool off. Zell tried his best to ignore it, but without the warmth of the shower water, his chill was returning. Reluctantly, he released his tight grip on Quistis, leaving his hands on her shoulders. "C'mon, Quisty, let's get out before we get cold."  
  
Quistis murmured something in response, but duly turned around and climbed out of the shower. She reached for the fluffy pink towel hanging on the rack, and then glanced around the room in confusion.  
  
"Oh," she said, as if something had just occurred to her. She wrapped the pink towel around her body and left the room; but before Zell could get disappointed, she came back around the corner with the small Garden-issue gym towel in her hand. Quistis offered it to him with a wry smile. "You seem to have dropped this."  
  
Zell grinned back in relief. "Thanks." They dried off in silence. Zell wondered what was supposed to happen now: should there be conversation? Or would she think he was a blabbermouth? Irvine always said you were supposed to cuddle after that sort of thing, but Zell wasn't quite sure whether Quisty was the cuddling type. And where would they cuddle anyway? The bathroom was tiny! Zell thought frantically back to last month's issue of _Girls Next Door,_ trying desperately to remember what his favorite main characters did after the big, uh, scene. But all he could remember was a tasteful fade-to-black. "Shit," he muttered, despite himself.  
  
Quistis, toweling off her hair, paused to glance at him. "Hmm?"  
  
"Nothin'," Zell said, blushing and turning away. "I just - what do we do now, Quisty?"  
  
Quistis laughed. The response surprised him, and Zell glanced back at her to see a slow smile spreading across her face.  
  
"We get dressed, Zell," Quistis said, as if it were blatantly obvious.  
  
"Oh. Right!" Zell grinned back. Well, if Quisty wasn't all weirded out by what had just happened, that was a good sign, right? And if she wasn't weirded out, there was no reason for him to be! He reached out for her hand, and gave it a squeeze - only to take his hand back in haste as his towel almost slipped from his hips.  
  
Quistis had gathered her clothing, and disappeared around the corner into her bedroom. Zell stared for a moment at the forlorn little pile of sopping wet laundry that was his shorts and boxers. He was really _not_ looking forward to having that chilly mess sitting on his hips - although the cold might do something to fix the problem of the half-grown boner he was currently ignoring. Resigning himself to freezing, gross discomfort, Zell reached down and shook out his shorts -  
  
"Here." Quistis' voice startled him into dropping the shorts back into the sink, where they splashed cold water onto his chest with a _squelch_. She was holding out an old pair of sweatpants as an offering, one eyebrow raised at Zell's apparent panic.  
  
"They're pretty stretched out, so they might fit you," Quistis explained, with an almost-perfunctory glance at Zell's waist. "You'll have to, er, go... with just these," she finished lamely.  
  
Zell seized the sweatpants with unbridled glee. "'S not like I never went commando in Garden before."  
  
Quistis' eyes went momentarily wide before she said, firmly, "I really don't want to know."  
  
Zell quickly dropped the towel and stepped into the pants, hoping to hide the evidence of his half-arousal from Quistis - he'd already had his turn! This was _totally_ embarrassing - but she'd already turned away, saying over her shoulder, "Let me see if I have a shirt that might fit you."  
  
The waistband of Quisty's sweats was a little tight, but her pants were both warm and clean - two things worth the discomfort in Zell's eyes. As he came around the corner, however, something in Quisty's room caught his eye - many somethings, in fact. Several rows of very small somethings, pockmarks across the wall: glaring blemishes in an otherwise pristine room. Zell's heart sank.  
  
"Here," Quistis said, her head buried in her closet, "see if this one fits." A t-shirt came flying from out of nowhere and hit Zell in the upper arm; his reflexes kicked in, and he caught the shirt almost idly. His gaze swept the room, a sick feeling enveloping his stomach.  
  
The words came out before he could really think about it: "Holy Alexander, Quisty, you're gonna be in so much trouble."  
  
Quistis pulled her head out of the closet, her eyes narrowing. "And why is that?" she asked, a little sternly. "Does that shirt fit, or do you need something else?"  
  
"Why?" Zell waved his empty hand at the bullet-holes from her Gatling Gun earlier. "Look at your walls! It's just like..." Stopping himself before he could finish off that sentence with _"that time Seifer came by my room,"_ he fumbled for a more appropriate metaphor. "Uh... like a Black Widow threw up bullets in here! We're gonna have to do somethin' about that before somebody sees it." He paused, pacing a little. "Right, so Ma's got some of that caulk stuff from the last time Rascal an' I wrecked the living room..."  
  
"Zell." Quistis' voice was calm, normal - almost too normal. Zell noticed the somewhat stiff set to her shoulders as she turned back to the closet. "I'll just call Custodial."  
  
"What?" Zell jumped. "No way, Quisty, you can't call them! Whenever I have to it _blows!_ They always give me a real hard time, and then you have to fill out this really long form, and _then_ they put it in your _file_ -"  
  
"It's alright." Her face was composed and blank as she threw another t-shirt onto the bed. "They've never caused me any problems. Here, why don't you try this one? I think it's larger."  
  
"That sucks! Man, they always look at me like they're gonna - wait a sec." Zell took a step towards the closet, peering at Quistis, who seemed to be trying to avoid his gaze. "When did _you_ have to deal with Custodial before?" Curiosity piqued, he took another step closer. "What'd you break?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," Quistis snapped. She regretted it almost immediately, as she saw Zell peering at her intently from the corner of her eye. She straightened and tried to give him her best Instructor glare, but it wasn't working. Even a month ago, her cold attitude might have made Zell back down; but somewhere along the line - possibly when she'd had her hand down his pants - Zell had become immune. He'd slipped inside her defenses... a while ago, Quistis realized. Today's physical manifestation was really only the culmination.  
  
"When we came back from Time Compression," she began slowly, noting the surprise on Zell's face as her voice dropped from harsh to soft, "I had - nightmares. I would dream about the battles - in the castle. Sometimes I'd wake myself up casting Blue Magic in my sleep." She glanced at her bed, chuckling wryly. "Do you remember that time the power was out for two days?"  
  
"Yeah! That sucked - we couldn't use the TC the entire time, an' - _wait_."  
  
Quistis blushed a little. "I shorted out the auxiliary power trying to turn off my alarm clock," she explained. "With Electrocute." She added sheepishly: "In my defense, at the time I thought it was Adel."  
  
"No way." Zell's eyes were wide with surprise - and an unhealthy amount of admiration. _Well,_ Quistis thought dimly to herself, _at least I ended up with someone who's proud of what I do._  
  
"Anyway," she continued, "Custodial got pretty used to coming in and having to fix what I'd done in my sleep." She shrugged, trying to keep her voice light. "I'll just tell them I had another nightmare."  
  
Zell was looking at her with an almost unreadable expression on his face. Was this pity? Quistis' pride flared up, despite herself. She'd never told _anyone_ about those nightmares, not at all: she hadn't wanted anyone to know just how badly she was dealing with the aftermath of that terrifying experience. Ultimecia's monsters had been terrifying, the witch herself even more so; but how could she possibly have told Squall - Mister Talk-To-A-Wall - that the memories alone were destroying her sleep? Squall would've ignored her - or, worse, taken her off of active duty.  
  
"Quisty, we all had nightmares," Zell said, and she realized belatedly that the look on his face was _understanding._ "Seriously. That's actually how Selphie an' Irvine got together, right, 'cause Seffie blew a hole in the wall between their dorm rooms by accident. Irvine couldn't sleep without her for _weeks_ , he was so scared she'd do it again _._ Even Squall had 'em. He didn't tell me though, Rinoa did." He paused. "Heck, Quisty, _I_ had nightmares too. Why didn't you say something?"  
  
Quistis blinked. 'None of you ever told me anything," she pointed out slowly.  
  
"Well..." Zell tried to figure out how to put his previous opinion of Quistis Trepe into words that wouldn't hurt the Quisty he knew now. "We didn't think you were bothered by 'em, for starters. An' we didn't think you'd care."  
  
 _Ah._ A cold, murky feeling winged its way through her gut. She'd been so good at keeping her distance from her friends - from everyone, really. Quistis sighed. "Anyway," she said finally, "don't worry about the walls."  
  
Zell gave her another odd look. "I wasn't worrying about the walls," he mumbled. Quistis stiffened as an awkward silence began to form. Then, in his typical, bumbling, almost accidental fashion, Zell punched through it, giving her a shy grin. "Kinda makes me feel better, though. Not your nightmares!" he quickly corrected, growing flush. "I mean, yeah, but not that way," he amended. He frowned, searching for words. "Knowing that you aren't always, y'know, Superwoman."  
  
Zell paused and gave her another slow grin, the kind that sent a tendril of warmth into her soul, rooting itself like a stubborn weed and refusing to let the darkness sink in completely.  
  
"Like maybe then I don't need to be Superman to be with you, either, 'cause hell knows I ain't," he added. The grin became a little broader - a little _more._ "...thanks," he finished honestly, looking a little embarrassed.  
  
 _Superwoman?_ Well... that was one way to look at it, she supposed. Quistis sighed, mixed feelings of disappointment warring with pleasure. One thing was quickly becoming obvious: dealing with this relationship with Zell wasn't going to be easy. Tucking away her uncertainty for dissection at a later date, she focused instead on something that _was_ easy - at least in comparison to her relentless thoughts.  
  
"Anyway," she said with a sigh. "Will you please put a shirt on? Superman and Superwoman have something to do in Balamb this afternoon."


End file.
